Begin Again
by pattyrose
Summary: Bella's life philosophies mirror her bakery-business philosophies: 1) you can't save a burned batch, and 2) there's no turning back once a batch is finished. It's the same when life gets real: marriage, children...widowhood all relegate memories of first love to weekly, monthly, yearly, and then…to occasionally. Unless...unless you're willing to begin that batch all over again. E&B
1. Chapter 1 - Bella Feelin' Nutella

**A/N: Happy Memorial Day! For those of you celebrating this weekend, I hope you've been enjoying your friends, family, and barbecues. For those of you who don't celebrate Memorial Day, I hope you enjoyed your wonderful weekend anyhow. Either way, I really hope you all enjoy the following story.**

 **We're looking at approximately 30 chapters, and we'll have updates three times a week: Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.**

 **Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes. (Though I tinker right through to the very end, so blame me for any lingering mistakes).**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

 **Excited to WIP with you all again. Here we go!**

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 **Chapter 1 – Bella Feelin' Nutella**

"So here's the thing, Alice. I've had a breakthrough today. You know how they say 'it's never too late to start over?'"

" _Yeah_." The slow and careful way in which Alice responds means she's already on guard about where I'm going with this.

"It's total bullshit. There comes a point where it's definitely too late to start over."

The cell phone static faintly crackles before I hear Alice's resounding laughter. I roll my eyes at her predictably trivial reaction to what I believe is an important philosophical step forward in my mental evolution. Setting down the phone on the black granite counter I call my workspace, I'll allow her a half minute to compose herself while I pull the fresh batch of Nutella Scones I prepared earlier from the fridge.

In keeping with what's become the city's expectation, I've named today's pastries in accordance with my mood of the day. Hence, we have _Bella Nutella Scones_ , trademarked by me: Isabella Swan Laurent - owner/baker/proprietor of Swan Bellies Baked Goods, Inc. – a well-known name in New York City's trendier bakery/café establishments.

One of the reasons why in the past year and a half my baked goods have become as sinfully coveted as a picture of J. Lo's ass deftly hidden under a monk's pillow is because I happen to know a shitload of baking secrets which others tend to ignore. For example, I know that the secret to a truly sublime scone is to allow the dough enough time to chill before it's placed into the oven. An amateur mistake is to allow said dough to sit at room temperature, even for the few minutes required for oven preheating. This mistake will result in tough and chewy scones, which will sit in your mouth like lumps of chuck meat. If one wants light, airy, and cloudlike scones instead of chuck meat, then one cannot make amateur mistakes.

It's this baking doctrine which has led to my current epiphany.

See, amateurs believe they can start over while those more experienced of us try to do things right the first time because we know there are no do-overs. Once you've fucked up the batch, you've fucked up the batch.

With the scones inside the Thermador, I pick the phone back up from the counter and return it to my ear. Seems I've timed it well. Alice's chuckles are dying down.

"Are you good?" I ask. "May we continue?"

"Yes. Yes, let's continue. Now," – she clears her throat – "from whence comes, pray tell, this sudden and dreary outlook on what should be a beautiful and thrilling new phase in your life?"

The sliding glass balcony doors on the top floor of my townhouse open to New York City's midtown skyline. I stand before them and watch the early afternoon sun cast its slivering rays over both modern silver steel and turn-of-the-century architecture.

"It's not a dreary outlook; it's simple facts. Tell me, Alice, when you've got a batch of pastries in the oven, can you pull them out halfway through and start the same batch all over?"

"I don't know, can you?"

Alice is not what you'd call domestically-inclined.

"No. No, you can't. It's got to finish baking as is. Likewise, in life, you simply can't pull yourself out of the oven, so to speak, halfway through and _start over_. You've done too much, seen too much, taken too many turns, and made too many irrevocable decisions. That's why I've concluded that starting over is a myth, a fairy tale told to divorced and/or widowed women, such as myself, in their mid-life to make us feel better about the prospect of spending the rest of our lives either a) alone, b) perpetually dating bald or hairy men because all the in-between ones have been taken, or c) marrying one of the aforementioned bald or hairy men so that you don't in actuality end up a) alone and can at least have d) pitifully marginal sex once a month."

She's cracking up again.

"The truth," I continue despite her obvious amusement, "is that you only get one starting point. The oven of life is set to go, and once your batch is in, your only option is to keep baking and hope you don't get burned too badly along the way. Don't get me wrong; this 'starting over' business is a wonderful concept in theory, and I can certainly see why the sales of so many self-help books depend on it."

"I see," Alice says. Her voice is mockingly grave as if I can't hear the laughter bubbling and begging to break the surface. "It's an interesting philosophy, Bella, I won't deny it. Must've taken you quite some time to perfect it. It can't be easy to compare life to an oven where we're all just a batch of cookies hoping to bake _just right_."

"Scones."

"Scones?"

"Scones, Alice, not cookies. The scones led to the breakthrough, and as such, they deserve the credit."

" _O-_ kay," she says slowly. "The scones are your wise oracles, like fortune cookies were to Confucius. Tell me, oh sage one, other than Nutella and butter, have you also laced these mystical scones with a certain weed-like ingredient whose medicinal effects include just a slight trace of absurdity and a big dollop of neurosis? Do these vessels of edible prognostication possess magical fat-burning powers as well? Because if they do, I'll take me a dozen."

"You're not taking me seriously here."

"I'm not - not at all." She laughs again, and I sigh, watching from my vantage point high on the top floor as a line of yellow cabs race down Second Avenue past the Loews movie theater and the Fairway market.

"Bella, sweetie, you're definitely borderline psychotic and irritatingly OCD, but I've known you for over twenty years now, and I know you're neither the type to base your life's ideology on fortune-telling scones nor are you by any means as fucking dismal as you sound today. Therefore, I can only assume that this less-than-cheery quantum leap you've taken in the past twenty-four hours has less to do with your true view of your future and more to do with nerves caused by your daughter's impending arrival."

There's a sharp retort dancing on the tip of my tongue regarding Nutella Scones up her asshole.

"Shit, you're right." I press my forehead to the clear glass balcony door and squeeze my eyes shut. Although the coolness of the glass is refreshing and mind-clearing, I mentally remind myself to Windex that shit as soon as I hang up. "You're right, you're right, you're absolutely right. I'm a fucking nut case. This is why I've named the scones _Bella Nutella_ Scones."

"It's catchy and accurate. I like it." Alice chuckles, though much more serenely now. "But I love you even when you're a bit nutty. Now, what time does Nessie's plane land?"

"At four." I check my watch more out of habit than because it's anywhere near time to go pick her up.

"Four our time or four west coast time?"

Silence.

"Damn it all to hell, I'm not even sure!"

Alice laughs yet again while I rush back to the kitchen counter and take a seat on one of the black leather stools to search the net on my laptop.

"Relax, Bella. If it's four west coast time, then that gives you an extra three hours before you've got to go pick 'em up."

"Yeah, but remember I told you that I managed to score eight o'clock dinner reservations for tonight at that new, trendy Tribeca restaurant we just signed on to carry my pastries. The manager was so grateful that he threw in prime-time seating for tonight even though the wait to eat there is usually weeks."

"Shit, yes. I wish I didn't have this stupid business dinner tonight so that I could go with you guys."

"Yeah, so do I. But if Nessie and _he_ aren't getting here until four west coast time, then that's exactly seven o'clock our time, and we'll never make the reservations!"

Alice is deceivingly quiet while I hastily punch in Nessie's flight number on the airline's website. Two point five seconds later, the information pops up.

 **ETA: 4:00 p.m. EST- JFK.**

And I exhale a long breath. "It's four our time."

"Of course, it is, Bella. That's not the type of miscalculation you'd make, but honey, seriously, you need to get a grip here."

"Easy for you to say. It's not your nineteen-year-old daughter coming home from her first year of college with a friggin' boyfriend - an older boyfriend, mind you - in tow."

Another god damn laugh. "So she's bringing home a guy, who happens to be a couple of years older than she is."

"Three years – he's three years older, Alice. He's twenty-two and completing his junior year of college. She's nineteen and just finished up her freshman year. Three. Years."

"Three. Tres. Trois. One more than two, and one less than four. I'm acquainted with the number. But he's Nessie's first real boyfriend! You should be excited about meeting him. I know I am."

I roll my eyes. "It's just…she's so young, you know? I don't want her getting all lost in this relationship and losing focus just when she's getting started."

"What's wrong with getting a little lost? She's young, Bella. If she's going to get lost, now's the time to do so."

"Have you heard nothing I've _ever_ said?" I face-palm over the pristine counter and smack my forehead against the cool granite.

"Come on, Bella. You know Nessie. I'm sure she's being careful."

"Ouch, don't say it like that. Being careful implies she's having sex." I shudder.

Silence.

My head whips up, eyes bulging.

"Wait a minute, you don't think she's…you don't think they're actually having… _sex_?" The last word is slightly muffled by the knuckle I've shoved into my mouth.

"Bella, Nessie is young, but she's always been smart. She was brought up well by you and Sam." At the mention of Sam, Alice's voice softens. "I mean, yeah, Ness is away from home for the first time and dating an older, more experienced college man. Of course she's having sex."

"You bitch."

She's like a hyena on steroids. "Seriously, Bella?" she chokes. "You're expecting her to return home a virgin?"

I remove the knuckle from between my lips. "Al, I don't expect her to hang on to her _virtue_ forever, no, but she _is_ young, and on top of that, it hasn't even been two years since she lost her dad. I want to make sure she's in a sound place both physically and emotionally before she gets that involved with a guy."

"Unfortunately, honey, though you make impressive attempts, you can't control absolutely everything."

"I know that," I say in that rushed _obviously-I-know-that-but-I-don't-really-care_ tone, "but…Alice, do you remember years and years ago when I first told you about that guy, the one I was involved with right before college?"

"I remember your telling me about Edward, yeah." Voice tender again.

"Yes, _him_. He was a bit older too, and it was crazy, and it was intense, and for a while...we were everything. I totally allowed myself to become completely lost in him, and…well you know the rest. When it ended, I was left to deal with not only a broken heart but also with completely finding myself again. I just…I don't want Ness to have to go through anything like that."

"Bella, you and Nessie are two different people. There's no reason to think that her first love will end in any way similar to the way yours did. Honey, I know it's been less than two years since my brother passed, but both you and Ness got through that pretty bravely. Besides, you don't know anything yet about Nessie's guy. He may be exactly the opposite of what this guy Edward apparently was. What's Nessie's guy's name again?"

"Ugh, _Anthony_." The name erupts from me like I'm saying, _Ugh, there's shit in my mouth._

" _Anthony_. Anthony's a hot name, much hotter than _Edward_."

"You're unstable."

"Pot. Kettle. So what does _Anthony_ look like?"

"Well, it's hard to get a good look at him in the pictures Nessie texts and posts since his face is always half buried in her neck or his mouth is plastered to hers."

Alice snickers. "That's a good sign. It means he's passionate. You want a passionate guy when you're learning to get down and dirty. Anyway, I hope he's hot. A passionate yet ugly dude is such a sad waste."

"Passion and a pretty face don't guarantee a good heart. Believe me."

A vague image - clouded by time and distance - of the boy I dated and loved throughout my senior year of high school materializes in my mind. Funny, I actually haven't thought of him in…well, in a while. There were those early years after our break-up when barely a day would pass without at least a fleeting thought of him. At first, they were painful, daily reminders of loss, of his heart-stopping grin and dazzling green eyes, and then they just…were. Life gets real, and memories of first love, no matter how passionate, get relegated to weekly, monthly, and then…occasionally.

I'm actually grateful for Alice's next interruption into my reverie. Today is not a good day to think of _him_.

"I suppose if you have to pick between the two, a big heart's better than a big dick. But let's hope my niece has had the sense to fall for the complete package."

"You know, sometimes you can be really..." I'm getting ready to say something about her crassness and superficiality when a strange, abrasive, and unfamiliar odor fills my nostrils. "Wait, what the hell is that…SHIT!"

Dropping the phone onto the counter, I jump off of the stool and lunge for the oven door, ripping it open, but I'm too late. A black cloud of smoke rushes out and billows in the air.

"My Bella Nutella Scones!" When the smoldering mass of fumes disburses enough for me to see the scorched lumps of unrecognizable anomalies on the baking sheet, I reach in with oven mitts and pull them out. I hold them about a mile away from my nose as I deposit them straight into the sink and open the faucet.

I return to the phone. "They were going to impress the hell out of that other restaurant which wants me, so they could beg me to supply them, and now fucking hell, on top of everything else, have the gods of baking deserted me?"

"You…burned something?" Alice sounds almost as bewildered as I feel. "You, Bella Swan Laurent a.k.a ' _Swan Bellies baked fresh for your belly'_ burned something? Is that even physically possible?"

"I haven't burned anything in over twenty years. Matter of fact, I haven't had a failed baking attempt since I first started dabbling with pastries as a means to keep my mind occupied and away from all thoughts of _him_."

"Shit, that can't possibly be a good sign."

"I thought you didn't believe in signs?"

"I never said that. I said your crazy-ass Bella Nutella Scones weren't magical – which obviously they weren't."

"Gee, thanks."

She chuckles. "Bella, all joking aside, do you need me to come to the airport with you this afternoon? I can leave the office for a couple of hours and just-"

She's not really superficial, and she only laughs at me this much when I'm being slightly neurotic; although, the crass thing she totally is, no joke. Yet there's no one in this whole entire world who knows me as well as Alice, my former sister-in-law until her brother – my husband, Sam – passed away almost two years ago. I've known her even before I knew Sam; therefore, she knows how much I hate airplanes and by extension, airports, and she knows very well why.

But as I'm the only parent Vanessa has left, I'm not about to let something as inconsequential as an irrational phobia of airports and all their affiliates interfere with my job as her mother – the most important job I have now.

"Thanks, Al, but I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

I say this with more confidence than I truly feel, but then again, isn't that how we do most things in life?

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 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Chapter Song Rec:** _ **Who Knew?**_ **by Pink**

 **Remember, another update on Wednesday.**

 **Link to my Facebook page,** _ **'Stories by PattyRose'**_ **is on my fanfiction profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **See you Wednesday!**


	2. Chapter 2 - Blame the Scones

**A/N: I was so excited and touched by the response to the first chapter of this story! Many of you already have theories going, and I suppose we'll either prove or disprove some of those as we go along. So here we go. :)**

 **Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes. (Although I tinker through to the very end, so all lingering mistakes are mine).**

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 **Chapter 2 – Blame the Scones**

I'm a good pastry chef. A great one, actually. Self-taught mostly; although, I did eventually attend culinary school later on to perfect my skills. The baking actually began as a hobby in a small, shared kitchen in Paris, where I attended college to escape heartbreak and thoughts of…

Shit, I've been thinking about _him_ quite a bit today, haven't I? It's strange, considering I haven't thought of him in a while. But I suppose it makes sense that, with the anxiousness of the day and with where I'm headed, he would come to mind. These burned Nutella Scones have thrown me off my game. They make me nervous because as a rule, I don't burn things.

Anyway, the defective batch has been disposed of and a new batch, which resulted in the usual perfection, baked. They've been shipped off to a prospective client, except for a few which I kept for Nessie.

Now, I'm sitting in the backseat of an Uber-ed Lincoln Navigator on my way to JFK Airport to pick up my nineteen-year-old daughter. She's returning home for the summer from her freshman year at UCLA – oh yeah, with her new boyfriend in tow.

Nessie has mentioned that he's a business major. He has plans of some sort to go into business with his dad upon his graduation next year. Yet although he and Nessie attend college in Cali, he's gotten himself a summer internship here in New York. Whether that's due to an interest in NYC itself or an interest in my daughter, I have yet to find out.

The other half of that story is that while _Anthony_ and a friend were to rent an apartment for the summer somewhere in Alphabet City, apparently that deal fell through. The ensuing text convo between my daughter and me went something like this:

 **-Mom, can Anthony stay with us for a couple of weeks or so until he and Seth can find another apartment for the summer?**

 **-No.**

 **-Why not?**

 **-Ness, don't start.**

 **-Don't start what?**

 **-Would you be asking this if Daddy was still around?**

 **-Yes, I would. I'm not asking for the green light to move him into my room where we can screw 'til sun-up.**

 **-The mental image that just conjured did your cause absolutely no favors.**

 **-Mommy, I'm serious.**

(Yes, at times, she still calls me "Mommy," and I hope that never changes. Of course, it also has the bonus side effect of turning my insides into squishy, boneless, easily moldable mush – which she likely knows.)

 **-Ness, please don't ask me for this. I wouldn't be comfortable with such a setup.**

 **-Mommy, I swear there won't be any funny business, and it'll only be until he and Seth can find a place. Seth is staying with his cousin, but it's gotta be on the dl, which is why Anthony can't stay there, and Anthony will be happy to pay rent if you want, whatever you feel is fair. That's not a problem.**

 **-First: 'Gotta?' 'dl?' Second: that was a horribly phrased run-on sentence. I truly hope you haven't been expressing yourself so pitifully in college this past year.**

 **-Mommy, can you please stop with the OCD for ONE MOMENT?**

(Here, I must disclose something else: Sam was the discipliner in the family. I'm the parent who tends to give in after being harassed for the same thing over and over, much like that horribly ineffective spy in the second Austin Powers movie. ( _'I can't stand to be asked the same question three times!'_ ))

 **-Third: You have to SWEAR you'll both behave while you're under my roof. He has to look for a place as quickly as possible. I don't need him to pay rent, just to get himself a place pronto.**

 **-Thank you so much, Mommy! We'll behave, I promise. And he's going to look for a place as soon as we arrive. Don't worry. And yes, I know you'll worry anyway, but you really don't need to. :)**

So that's how we got to where we are now, and it's why I'm consulting Nutella Scones for the meaning of life, and why I'm burning said Nutella Scones, and most likely why I'm thinking of _him_ so much today.

Though what I'm currently doing is banging my head against the Navigator's backseat window because I'm stuck in traffic a mere five minutes from the airport, only twenty minutes before my daughter's airplane is set to land.

"Oh my God, isn't there any way to get around this traffic?" I ask the driver.

Through the rearview mirror, he throws me a scalding look which so clearly calls me the nasty word in his mind that I wonder why he holds back.

"Sure there is; I can hop over every car in front of us like the little frog in those video games, or better yet, I can push the car's secret spy button and make it fly. Which one of these options would you prefer, ma'am?"

These Uber drivers are getting as bad as cabbies.

I'm about to tell him that I'd prefer the option where I shove a stick of TNT up his ass and sit back while the ensuing blast propels the car mid-sky like in those old WB cartoons. That would surely get us out of traffic. But while I'm phrasing this _just right_ in my head, my cell phone rings, and when Nessie's name pops up on the screen, I forget all about dynamite and my well-phrased response.

"We're here, Mom!"

"What? But your plane isn't due to land for another" - I check my watch – "seventeen minutes!"

"What do you want me to tell you, Mom? We're early."

Of course, the one time in my life when I've apparently failed to schedule enough leeway to arrive somewhere fifteen minutes early, the airline decides to be impressive. The world is backward today.

"Alright. I'll be there as soon as possible. I'm stuck in traffic five minutes away."

"Relax, Mom." She chuckles and then giggles, and my eyes narrow to slits at the sound of the muffled, male voice I hear close to her before she informs me, "We'll be by Luggage Claim!"

OOOOOOOOOO

I arrive at Luggage Claim in Terminal Five exactly three minutes before Nessie's flight was scheduled to land. Under normal airline operating procedures, I'm about half a day early. But of course, not today. Today, I've burned Nutella Scones, which means I'm in a free-for-all.

As I quickly scan the arrivals board that tells me which conveyor belt is carrying my daughter's luggage, I draw in a few deep breaths to quell the queasy feeling in my stomach. It's mostly due to being inside this structure which is so close to those winged, flying beasts full of hundreds of passengers with no way off should there be an emergency at 20,000 feet - ala that 1960s _Twilight Zone_ episode. ( _'I am not imagining it! I'm not imagining it! He's out there! Don't look! He's not there_ _ **now**_ _!')_

Shit, Alice is right; I _am_ being slightly neurotic today.

With renewed vigor in my steps, I determine to make the rest of this afternoon - the rest of this summer - work positively, no matter what. With her father gone, Nessie and I only have one another, and I-

I'm still a few feet away when I spot her blond head of hair. She's standing close to the conveyor belt surrounded by a throng of fellow passengers crowding and pushing one another in their quest to be the first to retrieve their luggage. I mean, everyone knows a gazillion dollars will be shoved into the first bag claimed from the conveyor belt.

She stands out though, not only because she's my daughter, but also because she's tall, beautiful, and because a ray of sunshine may as well throw a spotlight over her as a choir of angels sings. And yes, because she's my daughter.

"Vanessa!"

I'm careful to call out her full name because she's never been crazy about "Nessie" or "Ness." She says she gets visions of Scottish water horses and prohibition-era G-men, respectively, when she's called either of those nicknames. Only Sam, a couple of close friends and family, and I have ever been allowed to call her by those monikers and only while in small, well-enclosed, and secluded surroundings.

Her pretty head whips around, and when her eyes find me, she grins, and my heart skips because I've missed her so. The last time I saw her was for spring break when she was home for a week and still mostly my Ness – but that was before _Anthony_ became so important. My brow furrows when her mouth moves around words I can't hear, but then out of my periphery, I see the guy next to her nod.

 _Ahh._ _Anthony._ Well, I'm not ready to acknowledge him just yet.

Either way, she leaves him behind as she strides towards me with those long legs and quick pace I can't possibly match with my much shorter legs. Her height, dark blond hair and blue eyes are courtesy of Sam's genes. Then oh hell, I just skip towards her, and she laughs, matching me.

When I wrap my arms around her, she's six years old again, and my heart breaks a little because really…she's not.

"Thank God I made it," I say in an admittedly _'I just survived the zombie apocalypse_ ' voice.

Laughing, she pulls away. "You see, Mom? You weren't here to watch my plane actually land, and we _still_ managed to touch down safely and soundly." Her mouth pulls up in a teasing grin. "Lightning won't strike just because you're a few minutes late."

"It might; you never know with airplanes and airports."

She rolls her eyes at my longstanding fear of flying vessels, but she's still smiling, and I hope she's half as thrilled to be home as I am to have her here even if just for the summer – and even if I'll be sharing her attention with _Anthony_.

"You look great, sweetie."

"Thanks, Mom. You look wonderful too." She picks up my arms the way people tend to do when they're checking you out and whistles through her teeth. When I roll my eyes, she chuckles.

I slip my arm into the crook of her arm and turn her back towards the conveyor belt. "Come on, let's go get your luggage."

"Oh! Yeah, all right. Anthony's already got a couple of them, but we've got a lot."

Unable to put off the inevitable any longer, I turn my attention to the man-boy who'd been standing next to her. He's tall, lean, and light-haired, and he's got his back to me as he stretches out a long, golden, and well-toned arm in white short sleeves and easily pulls up a huge, black duffel from the rotating conveyor.

"We had to leave some stuff behind at school because we were flying, but Anthony's dad offered to drive down to L.A. later this week and keep the rest of our stuff on hold for us."

 _Us?_

 _Our_ stuff?

Sounds uncomfortably non-temporary and _non-this-is-just-my-first-real-boyfriend-and-I'm-just-having-some-fun-in-my-carefree-youth-and-I-swear-I'm-not-having-sex_ to me, but she just arrived, so I'll leave it alone.

For now.

"Oh yeah?" We're right by the belt now. "That's good of his dad. Where do his parents live?"

"Right in Cali."

I nod. "Well, if you happen to speak to his parents, remember your manners, and make sure you thank…"

Here, Anthony turns around.

He's got blond hair like my daughter's except a couple of shades lighter with some faint ginger mixed in there too. My mind notes this in the fraction of a second before a slow grin picks up one corner of a mouth just above a square jawline so exactly like another jawline I was once intimately acquainted with. Anthony straightens out after picking up yet another heavy bag and depositing it at his feet. Alice will be happy to know that he's a heart-stopper alright: well-built, amazingly green eyes all bright and friendly as he recites some words which in my current state, I completely fail to hear.

Anyone watching might think I'm perving out here, gaping all deviant-cougar-like at the undeniable beauty of this strapping young lad.

"Mommy, this is Anthony. Anthony, this is my mom, Isabella."

He politely puts out a hand for me to shake. "Anthony Masen, ma'am, and I just want to thank you for allowing me to- oh shit!"

It's the scones. Alice mocked them, but they truly were oracles portending things to come, and now they're at the ass-end of a garbage chute in a townhouse in Kips Bay, and I'm in the middle of a science-fiction, ultra-dimensional, totally fucked-up TV episode. I _must_ be.

"Mom! Mom! Mommy!"

I only vaguely hear Nessie's horror-filled cries before I either pass out or die.

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **If she died, this was a hell of a short story. :/**

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **See you guys Friday!**


	3. Chapter 3 - The Spawn

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your thought, guys! I laughed aloud reading some of them!**

 **She's Alive!**

 **Or maybe not? Let's read and find out.**

 **Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes. (Though I tinker through to the very end, so all remaining mistakes are my responsibility).**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3 – The Spawn**

My head spins. Heaving waves of nausea ripple up my throat like rolling tides of thick bile. Another sharp pang engulfs me, and unable to bear the pain, I cry out for him.

Suddenly, miraculously, he's here. Amid the clatter of airport rush and the curious whispers of travelers who've stopped what they're doing to surround me, I hear _him_.

 _Bella…Bella, baby, what is it? What hurts? Tell me what's happened._

I open my eyes and find his face hovering over mine. His brows are set in a deep furrow, green eyes dark and full of so much panic and…and love that I'm equal parts devastated and relieved. Somehow, in this version, he's made it here and no matter what happens now, I'll be all right. We're together again, and he'll help me through this.

My mouth curves into a slow smile as his name takes form in my mind. "Ed…"

"Mrs. Laurent, are you all right? What hurts? Tell us what's happened."

"Ed? Did she say 'Ed'? Mommy? Mommy, what's going on? Are you okay?"

It's her voice which immediately flushes out everything else and brings me back to the present.

It's not May of 1991.

It's May of 2016, and with a sharp gasp of realization, I leave the airport of my youth far behind, and thinking quickly – or as quickly as one can think in this type of fucked up situation - I reach up and cradle my head in one hand.

"My…ed."

"Your ed?" Ness narrows her petrified blue eyes. "Do you mean your… _head_?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, my ed." I rub my crown for good measure. "My _head_ aches."

She turns to the man-boy next to her, whom I'm pretty sure is the Spawn of Satan - well, technically not Satan himself, but a close runner-up.

"Anthony, are you sure she didn't hit her head?"

"No, Baby; she didn't hit it," he assures her solemnly. "I caught her before her head hit the tiles."

My eyes squeeze shut because God, even his _voice_.

"Miss, do you need us to call an ambulance for your mom?"

"I'm not sure. Mommy, do you need-"

When my eyes pop open again, I note the dozen or so faces staring down at me: Ness's, The Spawn's, a couple of uniformed airport security guards', and half a dozen or so curious passengers' who've left the luggage game far behind for way more interesting sport.

"No! No." I sit up over Terminal Five's dirty, germ-infested floor, making sure to keep my palms off the tiles. "No, I'm fine. I'm just a little dizzy. No need for an ambulance."

"Are you sure, Mom?" Ness looks so anxious that on top of the bewilderment swimming in my head, guilt washes over me.

"I'm sure, sweetie. I'm sure." I speak slowly and calmly. When I make a shaky effort to stand and The Spawn quickly reaches out to help me, I force myself not to recoil.

"There you go," he says gently once I'm upright. His hands remain on my forearms, supporting me. "Are you sure you're okay, Mrs. Laurent?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine." I pull away from his hold, and Ness moves around him, curving her hands around my shoulders.

"What happened, Mom?"

Meanwhile, our audience seems about ready to call for recliners and popcorn.

"I'm fine." I direct myself toward everyone still standing around, my tone clearly stating, _"Turn the fuck around, and mind your own business, assholes."_ With much more comforting New York-style blasé scowls, they all finally disperse.

"I'm okay, Nessie. I…I skipped breakfast today, and I suppose it caught up with me."

She narrows her eyes again. "'Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.' I seem to recall hearing that almost every morning for nineteen years."

"And now you see why it's so true." I attempt a smile, but I think it results in a grimace. "Let's just go home, Ness."

Her pretty features are still set in an expression of confusion mixed with concern. "Well…all right. Anthony, do we have all our luggage?"

When I turn around, The Spawn is balancing about seventy-five bags Jenga-style onto a luggage cart.

"I've got 'em all, Nessie. If your mom's okay, we're ready to go."

Despite everything that's just occurred, my eyes widen at the fact that he's allowed to call her 'Nessie.'

 _Nessie_ and I walk in front while he follows with the luggage, and despite the airport's AC, I'm sweating like Wilbur at a surprise Pork Roast. My daughter picks up on it.

"Mom, you're obviously not feeling well. I know you don't like airports or airplanes, and you really didn't have to come pick us up. Anthony and I could've just caught a cab."

"With all that luggage? No cab driver in his or her right mind would've given you the time of day." I chuckle, but it sounds more like that aforementioned pig realizing he's more than a guest at that roast. "I swear to you, I'm fine. I just got a little woozy. It's passed."

She seems only slightly mollified. We reach the garage where the Uber-ed Navigator is waiting, and although the driver looks bored and pissed, he's been paid to wait.

"'Bout time, lady," he mutters. "I was about to-"

The look I shoot his way keeps the rest of that comment unspoken.

"Open the trunk, please."

He opens that trunk quick-fast, yet the fucker makes no move to help with the luggage, which seems to be of no concern to The Spawn. He loads the bags into the trunk by himself with the ease of someone loading a shipment of cotton balls. Familiar-looking muscles strain as he heaves the bags up and out and in, up and out and in.

Shit _, I'm_ about to heave. I scurry to the front passenger seat like I'm being chased by the devil. The Spawn sees this and rushes to the door, opening it for me.

"There you go, ma'am." He closes the door behind me and taps it twice. "Just take a seat, and I'll have all the luggage loaded in a snap."

Keeping my eyes front and center, I see his fiendly grin (I mean _friendly_ grin) out of the corner of my eye. When I mumble a "Thanks," he returns to loading the luggage.

Throwing back my head against the head rest, I squeeze my eyes shut to see if I can wake up from this nightmare because this _cannot_ be happening. It's either the worst dream in the history of dreams, or I'm stuck in some sort of _Twilight Zone_ episode. They're the only options that would make any sense here.

"She's terrified of airports and airplanes." Ness whispers this to The Spawn while he finishes loading the luggage, but with the trunk door open and with my Spidey senses on full alert, I hear it all clearly. "She had some sort of episode on a plane when she was younger, way before she even met my dad. The airplane had to make an emergency landing and everything, and she's never fully gotten past it. She's only flown like once or twice since then: when she flew to Paris to go to college, and when we flew back after I was born."

"That's so messed up," Spawn whispers back. "I feel bad now, Ness. She shouldn't have come to the airport to meet us. I could've hired a car and gotten us back to your place."

"That's what I told her. But don't feel bad, babe; it's not your fault. Mom's _always_ has to do things her way. She's a bit of a control-freak."

"Jeez, thanks a lot," I mutter to myself, rolling my eyes at the multiple layers of betrayal. Not only is he allowed to call her both Ness _and_ Nessie, but she's told him about one of our family's little quirks – okay, one of _my_ quirks and possibly not so little. And as if all that's not enough, apparently, my daughter sees me as some sort of Margaret Thatcher on steroids.

Luggage all loaded and family secrets all told, Ness and The Spawn climb into the back seat, and we're off.

Of course, we hit bumper-to-bumper traffic on the Van Wyck Expressway on our way back because not only is it rush hour now, but it would totally go against the theme of the day if we didn't. Nessie and I catch up on mundane subjects: her grades, the weather in New York and L.A., and Swan Bellies' business.

The Spawn listens silently.

"Mrs. Laurent, I meant to say back at the airport that I'm really grateful for your allowing me to stay with you and Nessie while I find a place for the summer."

Damn it, I'd been hoping his silence would've lasted for the next two and a half months, at least.

"No problem." We're trapped on a narrow, congested highway, and to avoid further conversation, I feign interest in the way the sweltering heat rises from the black asphalt and creates shimmering waves of refraction.

"My friend, Seth, just texted me about a couple of places we can check out tomorrow…"

For the love of God, is he _still_ talking?

"…so if all goes well, I won't be taking advantage of your hospitality for too long." He chuckles.

"Anthony, babe, it's not easy to find a decent place in this city. Don't rush into anything crappy just because you're worried about taking advantage. We've got plenty of room at our place, and Mom's just fine with you staying as long as you need. Right, Mom?"

Oh God, no she didn't. I don't know if I'm capable of pulling off the sort of Oscar-winning performance she's asking from me here.

"Sure. Sure, it's fine."

All right, I think I managed to channel Jennifer Lawrence volunteering as tribute – though…come to think of it, she didn't actually win an Oscar for that role, did she?

We're all quiet on the western front, and I'm sure I've just proven why I never went into acting.

In the ensuing silence, I ask myself if I should just come clean. It may help my daughter understand why I'm being more of a lunatic than usual today.

' _Hey guys, guess what? I fucked Anthony's dad!'_

I snort to myself. Maybe not. That would definitely open up a shitload can of worms.

Another thought suddenly hits me.

There's the possibility that I'm totally off base here. This could all be a twisted, mind-bending, horrifying, and warped coincidence. There are what, over seven billion people on this planet? How many of them look alike and share surnames without being related? A shitload! Just like related people sometimes look nothing alike. Look at Ness and me – physically, she's Laurent through and through.

Yes!

In spite of the nausea churning in my stomach, I cling to this new theory like it's a life raft. With this new ray of hope shining over me, I force myself to address the perhaps-not Spawn of Satan to gather more concrete intelligence.

"Anthony," I say as pleasantly as possible, smiling through the rearview mirror, "Nessie tells me you've only got one more year of college left."

He straightens out in the backseat and rakes a hand through his blond hair, a nervous habit many people in this world share, so I won't allow it to discourage me from my new theory. When he starts talking, I feel a dull pang of guilt because he's obviously grateful about having been singled out for conversation.

"Yes, ma'am. I'll be done next year. This summer's internship here in New York will earn me a few credits towards my degree. I'm really excited about it."

He chuckles again, and Nessie joins him. Through the rearview mirror, I see them move in and brush their lips to one another's. They pull back a bit, but then it's as if an elastic has stretched between them, and it's their mission in life to make sure it doesn't break. This leaves them with no choice other than to bring their mouths together again. And again. And again and again.

"She mentioned you're a business major?"

"Damn it, lady, they're in the back seat, not in China!" The driver furiously rubs his right ear.

I suppose I may have yelled that last question.

In the back seat, the love birds begrudgingly allow the elastic to break while I watch the possibly-not Spawn blink a dazed look out of his green eyes.

"Uhm, yes, ma'am. I'm a business major."

"What field exactly are you focusing on?"

"Well, my dad is in importing and exporting. He's got his own business, and I'd like to join it upon graduation. I've interned with him a couple of summers, but when we discussed my plans for this summer, we both agreed that it might be beneficial if I branched out and worked for someone else."

"A bit of real world experience."

"Exactly." He chuckles shakily, and the hope swelling in my chest grows.

Edward was going to be a lawyer. He was headed for law school. It had always been his plan and his dream - not some importer/exporter nonsense.

"Mrs. Laurent, Nessie tells me you have your own pastry catering business?"

"Yes," I smile at the boy. Despite his looks, his eyes, his voice, his mannerisms, his grins, and even his last name, I'm feeling more and more confident that he's indeed _not_ the Spawn of Satan. I mean, we all supposedly have a doppelganger doppelganging around in this world, don't we?

They may all just be the biggest fucking collection of coincidences since those freaky coincidences connecting poor Presidents Lincoln and Kennedy.

"It's a boutique business. I cater exclusively to carefully selected bakeries and restaurants around the city, delivering fresh pastries baked daily by a small staff."

"That sounds great…and delicious." He grins that crooked grin that may just be another random fluke.

"God, Anthony, you've got to taste my mom's baking," Nessie says, voice full of pride. "Trust me; you've never had anything like it."

"Well, my mom has never been much of a cook in any way, shape, or form, and Dad only makes the basics, so I'm really looking forward to tasting your baking, Mrs. Laurent. Nessie's built it up quite a bit."

I am becoming increasingly mollified by the second.

"Well, I hope Nessie didn't overdo it," I smile modestly, but really, I am a fucking pastry genius. "But…yes, I think you guys will enjoy the little surprise I have at home. And I have a surprise for tonight as well!"

"Ooh, Mom, we can't wait!"

Through the rearview mirror, I see Nessie's slow smile and her hand crawl into his, resting over his lap. He takes it and squeezes tightly, a quiet sigh whistling through his narrowed lips. Aww, how cute; the little fucker is nervous. That other one was never nervous; matter of fact, he could often be one overconfident, cocky fuck. He'd likely not spawn this hot-as-hell yet self-conscious whippersnapper after all.

I begin to see things clearly now: it was my own nerves of the day, combined with the burning of the Nutella Scones, the anxiety over the traffic, and then being at the airport, which caused my imagination to work overtime. This kid, who is most likely _not_ the devil's offspring, will have his own place in a couple of weeks or less. And he's just Nessie's first real boyfriend after all. By this time next year, he'll be nothing more than a distant memory – one that was extremely good-looking and a dead-ringer for another, yes, but one which will one day, as my own memories have with time, fade into the background of my daughter's youthful fancies.

As I fill my lungs with long, wonderful breaths, I hear the vibrations of a phone ringing. Anthony lifts a muscular thigh and pulls out his cell phone from his back pocket, snorting and shaking his head when he looks at it.

"Excuse me for a minute, Mrs. Laurent. It's my dad."

"Of course."

While the kid reports into his father, I return my eyes to the front of the car. We're now exiting left off of the Midtown Tunnel to take the East 35th street exit, which means we'll be home in a couple of minutes.

"Yeah, Dad. Yeah, we're here. Yeah, sorry I forgot to call, but we had some…uh, I just forgot to call."

Despite the traffic, we should still have enough time for the kids to settle in, do some unpacking, and then change for our dinner-

"Her mom picked us up from the airport. Yeah. Edward, come on; I've got manners. Sure I said thank you."

A river of Nutella-flavored bile rises to my throat because the chances of that just being _another_ coincidence?

Nil.

I press a hand to my mouth to keep down the vomit.

"Yeah, Nessie's fine. Of course I made sure neither she nor her mom carried any of the luggage. What do you take me for?" He looks at Nessie and rolls his eyes, grinning.

"Your dad is so funny!" Nessie giggles and moves close to the cell phone. "Hi, Mr. Masen!"

The Spawn (because yes, he _is_ The Spawn) laughs. "Yeah, she's right here. You want to talk to her?" Grinning, he hands the phone over to my daughter.

"Hi, Mr. Masen." She giggles again. "Yes, he behaved on the flight. Yes, he took care of the luggage all by himself. My mom wasn't feeling well and needed some help, so he…no, no, she's fine. She just felt a little sick, but she's fine now. I'm looking forward to meeting you soon too. The end of the summer when we pick up our stuff? That sounds great! Yes, it was good to speak to you too. Bye, Mr. Masen!" She hands The Spawn back the phone.

"Yeah, Dad. I did, Dad," Spawn says, a bit of playful exasperation seeping into his tone. Suddenly, his green eyes are fixed to the rearview, and he looks directly at me. "If you want to do so yourself, that's fine, but I promise you, I did." He leans forward and holds out the phone to me, a sheepish grin on his too-familiarly handsome face. "Mrs. Laurent, my dad wants to make sure that I thanked you properly for your hospitality."

I've got just enough time to hit the window button and squeeze my head out of the tight space that ensues before I watch little pieces of Nutella Scones fly all over busy Second Avenue.

"Mommy!"

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Yes, the Nutella Scones are still around – sorry, not sorry. :)**

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **See you guys on Monday! Have a great weekend!**


	4. Chapter 4 - The Best Laid Plans

**A/N: Thanks so much, guys, for all the wonderful thoughts you've been sharing with me! I'm thoroughly enjoying them! Yeah, poor Bella is definitely having a bad day, lol. Let's see if it continues, shall we?**

 **Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes. (Though I tinker through to the very end, so any lingering mistakes are mine.)**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4 – The Best Laid Plans**

My cell phone vibrates just as I'm racing up the townhouse's winding second story staircase with one of Nessie's big mother-effin' bags in tow. She and The Spawn are still outside, pulling out the rest of their trillion pieces of luggage from the Navigator, but I hear them yelling for me from the curb like a couple of true New Yorkers: she because between The Airport Fainting Spell Fiasco and The Second Avenue Nutella Scones Vomit Incident has convinced herself that she's about to become Little Orphan Annie, and he because I've absconded with one of the bags and apparently broken one of his sire's cardinal rules regarding women handling luggage.

I wonder what other cardinal rules regarding women dear old Fuckward has taught his Spawn.

 _Yes, Junior, it is extremely important that you never, ever, ever allow women to carry heavy luggage…and it might also be a good idea to keep your dick in your pants when you go off to college and leave your high school sweetheart behind._

Coming to a halt at the top of the staircase, I huff and puff and drop Nessie's heavy as hell bag (seriously, what in Jesus' name is she even carrying in here?) at my feet while I pull out my vibrating phone. When I see who it is, I roll my eyes as I swipe the green button.

"Alice, not right now."

"Bella, Nessie just texted me in a panic saying you _fainted_ at the airport and then you _threw up_ all over Second Avenue?"

"Not _all_ over Second Avenue, and I'm fine, I'm fine. I'll explain everything later."

"What do you mean you'll explain everything later? What's going on?"

"Alice, you'll never fucking believe-"

"Mom, where are you?"

"Mrs. Laurent, do you need help with that bag?"

"Little fuckward," I grit through my teeth before yelling down the stairs, "Some women _can_ carry heavy bags, you know!"

"What?" Alice says. "Who are you calling a little-"

"Alice, I'll call you back in a few." I hit the red button and lean over the railing. "I'm up here!"

Two sets of Converse pound over the wooden steps while I make a beeline to the second story kitchen, the smaller one we use for everyday cooking. There, I open the faucet and pull out my emergency toothbrush from the cabinet next to the sink. When I'm done brushing and rinsing, I throw out the toothbrush and grab a clean goblet out of another cabinet. I go ahead and pour myself a tall serving of the sauvignon blanc I left chilling on the counter. Then I down that shit like downing shit is going out of style.

I swing around, goblet upside down as I tap it against my tongue to get the very last drop, and find Ness and The Spawn watching me.

"Wine, anyone?"

"Mom, do you really think you should be drinking when you just fainted _and_ vomited?"

Pouring myself a second glass, I wave off her concern. "It was nothing, sweetheart, nothing at all. I promise you."

I walk to where she's standing hand in hand with The Spawn. They both take me in carefully like I'm about to either break out into maniacal song and dance or drop dead at their feet. With a reassuring smile, I take her free hand in mine.

"Remember I told you I skipped breakfast? Well then I had a Nutella Scone right before I left for the airport, and I guess with an empty stomach, it didn't sit well."

"That's an understatement," my daughter scoffs, looking totally unconvinced. "Mom, should we call a doctor or something? Are there some meds you should be taking?"

"No, Nessie, for God's sake! I'm not dying!" I follow this up with a misplaced chuckle, which neither of them returns because yes, that was pretty Thoughtless Asshole of me considering Sam hasn't even been gone for two years, but give me a fucking break here. My past has just landed via Jet Blue in the form of a carbon-copy-son-of-a-bitch - literally - whose presence is now darkening the holy sanctuary I call my kitchen. Even worse, he's possibly/maybe/hopefully-not-but-probably-so sleeping with my daughter.

"Mom, are you sure you don't have anything to tell me?" Her blue eyes narrow.

Some sixth sense deep within warns that this is the part of the tale where I'm being granted the opportunity to bare my soul early on before this cluster fuck grows and festers like a bad rash.

"Nothing at all." I draw in a deep breath. "Look, the afternoon started out…rough, yes, but let's put it behind us." Then with a grin, I spring my surprise on her. "I've scored reservations for the three of us this evening at that restaurant I was telling you about; that new, trendy one in Tribeca that's the latest to carry my pastries. The wait list there is usually weeks long."

Her reaction is far from the awe, worship, and adoration I was expecting. "Mother, don't you think you should take it easy for the rest of the evening?"

"Not at all, Daughter. I'm forty-two, not ninety-two. Come on." Smiling like I'm not the least bit flustered, I give her hand a tug. "I've been looking forward to going there with you."

"Actually Mom, Anthony made plans for us to hang out with Seth and a couple of friends tonight."

The unflustered smile withers, and I press my lips together tightly. This little fucker - not here for two hours, and he's already ruining my summer.

"It's no big deal, Nessie," Spawn sputters quickly. "If your mom went through the trouble of making those reservations, we can just meet up with Seth afterward."

"There, you see? Seth can wait until later."

"Alright then," Nessie says. "If you're sure you're feeling okay, Mom..."

"Like I said, I'm fine." I grin, but I'm not happy – not happy at all that The Spawn was the one who swayed her here.

She holds my gaze. "Anthony, babe, can you start taking the luggage to the rooms? My room is the last one on the left, and yours will be the second one on the right. Is that right, Mom?"

"Yes. Yes, that's correct. Last one on the left and second one on the right, an entire hallway apart from one another with my room right smack in between them." I raise a brow.

"Uhm…alright sure, baby." He kisses her temple and then looks at me. "Again, Mrs. Laurent, thanks so much for your hospitality."

I resist rolling my eyes as he heads for the luggage because seriously, he's said that like _three_ times already. Picking up the bag which almost gave me a hernia on the way up here, he throws it over his shoulder like it's full of hot air. Darn healthy, able-bodied Spawn.

As soon as The Spawn is out of hearing range, Nessie folds her arms against her chest and glares at me. "Mom, if you're sure you're okay, then can you please try to be nice here," she hisses.

"What are you talking about? I _am_ being nice. I'm letting him stay here, aren't I?"

"You've barely paid him any mind since we landed, and when you do look at him, it's with a scowl that would scare the ever-living crap out of a grizzly."

Here, I do roll my eyes. "You exaggerate. It wouldn't scare a grizzly."

"Look, Mom, Anthony is very important to me, and he's nervous enough as it is about making a good impression on you. Just...give him a chance."

 _Don't roll your eyes, Bella. Don't roll your eyes!_

"Now, I know you're feeling a bit out of control here-"

"I don't feel out of control," I say.

"Yes, you do. This is exactly how you act whenever you're feeling out of control. When Dad was here, he knew what to do. He knew how to calm you down when you got like this. But he's not here, so let's just…let's just try to get along without him for the summer, okay?"

And with those words of nineteen-year-old wisdom gleaned from a whole year away at college, my daughter walks away from me.

"You didn't even try my Nutella Scones," I whisper to her retreating form.

OOOOOOOOOO

Later that evening, on the cab ride down to the new, trendy Tribeca restaurant that I went through a hell of a lot of trouble to book for tonight, I'm equal parts relieved and offended by how oblivious the two lovebirds sitting beside me are to the world around them. It gives me some time alone with my thoughts.

 _Try to be nice,_ she said. Maybe if she had the slightest inkling of what she was asking from me, maybe if she knew the whole story…

But…I can't tell her the whole story. That's not even an option. Instead, while Nessie and her boyfriend laugh and shoot one another googly eyes beside me, I expel a heavy breath and watch the sun lining into position for descent behind the city's skyscrapers. A new day will be upon us in a few short hours.

What am I going to do? How am I going to get through an entire summer with this boy...with _Anthony_...around?

 _Anthony_. Of all the millions of names in the world, they named him _Anthony_.

Sure, he'll most likely be gone by the end of the year, maybe even sooner. He's nothing more than my daughter's first real boyfriend, after all. But if he's going to be around for even a fraction of the short amount of time I have with Ness, I suppose I've got to make at least a limited effort.

"Anthony, is this your first time in New York?"

It's an admittedly shaky attempt; nevertheless, all conversation between them immediately ceases. Nessie is seated between us, so he angles himself around, looking me in the eye as he speaks. I must admit that at least someone taught this boy some modicum of manners.

He clears his throat and grins that godforsaken crooked grin. "No, ma'am. My dad has brought me along with him a few times on business trips. The first time, I was about ten. The last time was right before I started college."

I picture _him_ …in his early thirties…walking around New York City's streets with a cute, little ten-year-old boy in tow. It's a bit nerve-wracking to think there have been times when he's been that close.

"So he does business here in New York often?"

"Yes, ma'am, but he doesn't take the trips here too much anymore. As the business has grown, he's preferred to leave the travel to his employees."

I nod slowly. "Of course, that makes sense. Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"No, ma'am. Like Nessie, I'm an only child." He meets Nessie's gaze for a second and gives her an admittedly tender smile. Nessie returns it, and out of my periphery, I see her squeeze his hand.

Meanwhile, I keep my expression neutral in light of all the info I'm receiving.

"And where do your parents live?"

"My dad lives in Newport Beach, and my mom lives in L.A."

Here, neutral expression is completely obliterated.

My eyes bulge, and my voice jumps about half a dozen octaves. "Come again? Your parents are _separated?_ "

"Uhm, they're actually divorced, ma'am. They divorced when I was a little kid - about two years old, I think." He looks alarmed, probably attributing my reaction to an ultra-conservative disapproval of divorce and all its byproducts. But holy mother of disclosures!

"Your mom…"

My voice squeaks out in a strangled mess. I mean, of course I know who his mom is. The ten percent of his gene pool that isn't all his father is definitely _her_. His hair for one - that's her hair color. I may have only seen her for a few minutes, and it may have been twenty-five years ago and through a shitload of tears (damn, has it really been that long?), but some things stay stuck to your brain like indestructible little leeches. I remember that head of strawberry-blond hair.

Clearing my throat, I make another attempt. "Your mom…what does she do for a living?"

"She's a lawyer, ma'am. She works for her family's firm, Dennis and Associates. I think I mentioned that my dad's business is importing and exporting. He's got his own firm as well: Masen and Son Global."

"Yes. Yes, that's wonderful." Then masochistically because I might as well hear them spoken aloud, "What are your parents' names, Anthony?"

"Their names are Edward Masen and Tanya Dennis, ma'am."

"Edward and Tanya," I repeat, turning away and smiling a secret smile to myself at the fact that it doesn't even hurt...not really, not anymore.

Memories of first love…yes, they do take a back seat.

OOOOOOOOO

The restaurant is crazy crowded when we arrive. I instruct the kids to wait by the entrance, and then I strut confidently and perhaps just a tiny bit smugly to the hostess section, bypassing everyone waiting on one long-ass line. Not only did I make reservations days ago, but I'm Bella Swan Laurent, owner/proprietor of _Swan Bellies Baked Goods_ , and this place has just been granted the privilege of carrying my line - a privilege they're proudly announcing via the colorful Swan Bellies-created poster displayed by the entrance.

"Hi, I'm Bella Laurent, and I have reservations for three at eight p.m."

I grin pleasantly at the twenty-something-year-old girl dressed all in black with black polish on her nails and smoky black makeup around her eyes. She in turn barely spares me a glance as her finger glides down the iPad screen before her. With a blasé smile pasted on her face, she looks up.

"Good evening, Miss Laurent. We should be ready to seat you in forty-five minutes or so."

"Great, thanks. Wait! Was that four to five minutes or forty-five minutes?"

" _Forty-five_ minutes, ma'am."

"Forty-five minutes?!"

"Yes, ma'am, forty-five minutes."

"But I have reservations!"

"That's why your wait will be forty-five minutes, not forty-five days."

"That's ridiculous! Is your boss here - the restaurant's owner?"

She quirks a brow that clearly says, _Seriously, lady?_

By this point, I've attracted some attention, and a few of the patrons are giving me the same sort of look, obviously unaware that the _Swan Bellies Baked Goods_ to which that poster on the storefront refers is my claim to fame.

Trying not to appear completely Hollywood, I move in closer to Smoky Makeup Girl and lower my voice.

"Uhm…do you know…who I am? Bella Swan Laurent? Swan Bellies?"

Nothing.

Talking out of one side of my mouth, "Swan Bellies - baked fresh for your belly?" I jerk my chin towards the poster behind me.

Now she looks at me like I just asked whether lifeboats will be seated by class.

"Look lady, I know who you are, and yeah, your pastries are slamming. But do you see Mr. De Niro back there?

Slowly turning my head, I meet Mr. De Niro's smirking gaze.

"Well, he has two Oscars, and he's _still_ gotta wait."

Meanwhile, something gets shoved into my hand, and when I look down, I'm the proud holder of a big, black beeper.

"It'll light up and vibrate when we're ready for you and your party of three. You can wait at our bar section if you'd like. Next!"

I turn around, big black non-vibrating beeper in hand, and about two dozen people holding matching beepers to mine smirk my way smugly.

"Mom!" My eyes move to the crowded doorway where Nessie is shouldering her way forward with a man, who isn't The Spawn, at her side. "Mom, look who I found outside!"

A slow grin spreads across my face before I'm quickly enveloped in a pair of strong, warm arms.

"Hey, Bell!"

"Jay!" I hug him back tightly and pull away enough to smile up at one of my best friends; well, he's one of Sam's oldest friends, an old family friend who also happens to be _Swan Bellies'_ Marketing Rep. "Jay, what in the world are you doing here?"

He chuckles. "You told me you were going to be here tonight." I vaguely note how his hands are still wrapped around my waist, but it's okay. Like I said, he was one of Sam's dearest and oldest friends. "I figured I'd surprise you and Nessie."

"You sure did surprise us."

"Uncle Jay, are you going to have dinner with us?"

Now Jay is a great friend, yes, but not only was tonight supposed to be just for the three of us: Nessie, The Spawn, and me (and The Spawn only because I had no choice) so that we could catch up, but now I'm mentally calculating how adding another member to our dinner party will affect our wait time.

"Well…if it's okay with your mom, I'd love to stay."

Damn. "Sure, it's okay with me."

Nessie claps her hand excitedly, and Jay squeezes my waist in gratitude.

"Wonderful! Now you can tell me all about your first year of college."

"It was so great! Hey, Mom, what happened with the reservations?"

"Uh…it's going to be a little while."

OOOOOOOOOO

Smoky Makeup Girl is more than happy to inform me that adding another member to our party will put us smack at the tail end of one-hour-wait territory.

Afterward, while we wait for our table, Nessie returns outside to hang out with The Spawn under the city lights, and Jay and I head for the bar.

"What would you like, Bella?"

I order a White Russian, and he orders a Sam Adams. He grins at me and unbuttons the top button of his suit jacket the way men tend to do when relaxing, and now I vaguely note how his chest fills out the fitted cut of his dress shirt. Sam filled them well too, but he always preferred classic cut shirts.

Jay rests his big, dark hand atop mine over the bar counter - friendly-like, of course. I mean, he's an old family friend.

"How've you been, Bella?" His voice is full of warm affection.

"I've been good, but it was…a trying day." I grin tiredly as I sip my White Russian from the thin, little red straw.

He chuckles deep in his throat, his dark eyes sparkling in the restaurant's purposely dim lights. "Nessie's new boyfriend?"

We share a laugh, and I expel a deep sigh. "Jay, you have _no_ idea."

And he never will. No one except my girl Alice will ever know what's going on here - not if I have any say about it. I just have to get through the next couple of weeks - or a short summer at the very most - without completely losing my shit. Again.

OOOOOOOOOO

 _At that same moment…_

"Hey, Jasper. Yeah, yeah, I landed a short while ago. I'm in a cab headed to the hotel now. Hey, did you get a chance to- You got it all?" I grin and throw my head against the back of the seat. "Thanks a lot, man. I owe you one. I promised Anthony I'd pick it all up for them, but with this last minute trip- No, no. I called him from the air, but I didn't tell him I was headed for New York. I figured I'd surprise him."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **We will have a change in POV for the next chapter. :)**

 **(And by the way, things aren't always so black and white, just saying). ;)**

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **See you all on Wednesday!**


	5. Chapter 5 - Collision Course

**A/N: Again, guys, I'm truly grateful for your wonderful thoughts and for the response to this story. I suppose many of us can relate to going a bit nuts once in a while, huh?**

 *****Please note that there is a change in POV in this chapter *****

 **Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes (though I tinker through til the very end, and I'm not perfect, so...).**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 5 – Collision Course**

Jasper and I discuss a few other odds and ends. Then thanking him once more for doing me the favor of picking up Anthony and his girlfriend's things from school, I end the call and flip the cell onto the empty backseat next to me. I rest my head against the cab's headrest and take a breather before moving on to my next phone call.

"Hey, Mr., looks like there's traffic getting onto the Brooklyn Bridge. We might be stuck here for a few."

"That's alright, buddy." I sigh. "I'm in no rush."

I spread my legs as much as possible in the tightly enclosed space, and my knees hit the partition. The built-in TV on the partition drones quietly with paid promos for various New York related landmarks, activities, and products. While the ad voices, in conjunction with the cab's inertia, lull me into a pleasant drowsiness, I shut my eyes.

" _While exploring New York City, make sure you don't miss our famous Swan Bellies Pastries, a true Big Apple treat! You won't find a thing like them anywhere else in the country! Baked fresh daily from locally sourced ingredients, they'll fill your mouth with delight and your belly with ecstasy."_

"Who comes up with these marketing lines?" I mutter groggily. "Fill your mouth with delight and your belly with ecstasy? Sounds like a porn ad."

" _Available only in premium, carefully selected restaurants and cafes around the city, Swan Bellies Pastries will keep you coming back for more!"_

"Not likely," I snort quietly. Sticky-sweet pastries have never been my thing.

" _Swan Bellies, baked fresh for your belly!"_

Shaking my head from side to side, I chuckle and reopen my eyes. Outside, the late-setting summer sun descends between skyscrapers, leaving behind a deep orange hue that bathes the city and outlines silver steel structures in a shadowy, soft-edged glow. Bright, white lights leap out from each building like stars against an awakening sky. A Manhattan-bound train rumbles tauntingly past our unmoving cab on tracks between the southern and northern bound lanes of the bridge. Bicyclists, joggers, and walkers on the pedestrian lanes all make better time than we do.

That's alright. Like I said, I'm in no rush. It's not as if anyone is waiting for me.

I draw in one last breath before hitting her number.

"Yes?"

"When was the last time you spoke to your son?"

"I spoke to him a few weeks ago."

Rubbing my jaw hard, I count down from ten. "You do remember he was flying to New York today to start that internship?"

She sighs. "I've been busy with this latest case. Besides, he's twenty-one years old."

"Twenty-two. He's twenty-two years old."

"The point is he's a grown man, and he doesn't need his mommy checking in on him every five minutes."

"Well in case you're interested, he'll be staying with his girlfriend's family for a couple of weeks until he can-"

"Look, can you fill me in later? I'm in the middle of a client-"

"Tanya, just give him a fucking call or text him two god damn words in between your cases to let him know his mother thinks of him once in a while," I hiss.

"You know what, Edward? You need to cut the fucking umbilical cord and kiss my ass," she hisses right back. Then she hangs up.

I squeeze my eyes shut and bang a fist repeatedly against the ripped leather seat while growling deep in my throat. For the ten-thousandth time in my life, I wonder what the hell possessed me to ever give that woman a second glance.

When I look up, the cabbie's eyes are on me through the rearview mirror. "The ex?"

"Yeah. Yeah, the ex."

He chuckles. "I recognize the signs, man."

Drawing in yet another breath, I release it slowly, hoping to expunge with it every last particle of _The Ex_ from my system.

"Yeah, well, guess I've got no one but myself to blame," I mutter. "I wasn't the smartest guy when I was younger, and some of the decisions I made back then…" I whistle low through my teeth. "Man, they were sure as hell doozies."

Cabbie guy laughs. "Then, buddy, I guess you got what you deserved."

My mind wanders about a quarter of a century into the past to the exact moment when I made one of the stupidest decisions of my life...

Before it can go too far, I shake the shitty memory out of my head. "Yeah, I sure did; I don't know that my son did, though."

"Yeah well, kids are a resilient bunch," he says. "Best we can do is try to teach 'em from our mistakes and then let 'em get on with it."

"Ain't that's the truth." And although I agree with Cabbie and have spent the past twenty-two years doing just that, I'm starting to fucking depress myself back here.

Luckily, whatever the hold-up was on the bridge seems to have cleared, and cabs and private vehicles alike once more speed northbound into a city now lit up for the evening.

"Alright, Mr., looks like we can be on our way again."

"Great. Let's get this show on the road."

I rest against the seat once more, but she's in my head now.

No, not my nightmare of an ex-wife, but the other one…the one who had the softest brown hair and the richest coffee-toned eyes.

They always sneak up on me this way, thoughts of her. I won't think of her for the longest time, and then I'll be taking care of the most mundane task, dealing with something wholly unrelated, and there she is, her sweet smile in my mind, the ghost of her smooth skin making the tips of my fingers tingle. There were years when I'd think of her daily, when I'd close my eyes at night, and she and Anthony would compete for my last thought…thoughts of what could've been…what _should've_ been…

But time passes. You've got kids, and suddenly, your life isn't yours anymore. Memories of wrong turns, wrecked opportunities and lost…well, it all takes a back seat to the daily grind.

Now I'm really making myself miserable, and I'm about to call my son; he doesn't need to deal with his old man's brooding.

"Hey, Dad, what's up?"

"Not much. Just calling to make sure you and Nessie settled in okay. I know you said her mom wasn't feeling well?"

"We're good. Nessie's mom is doing a lot better. We're out with her right now at a restaurant in…where are we, Ness?"

"Tribeca," says the voice of the girl who's been stuck to Anthony's hip for the past couple of months.

"Tribeca," Anthony repeats.

"Well, if you're in the middle of something, we can talk at another time."

"We're not in the middle of anything, Dad. If we were, I wouldn't have answered the phone," he chuckles. "There's a bit of a wait at the restaurant, and Nessie and I are hanging out outside until our table is ready."

"Oh yeah? Then if you've got a couple of minutes, I've got something to tell you."

"What is it?"

"I'm in New York, actually."

" _What_? Are you serious?"

"Yeah, it was all last minute. We've got to meet with the head of that small start-up I was telling you about. I would've sent Jasper, but I figured since you were heading here too, it might be cool; although, if you're going to be busy for the next couple of days, that's fine," I add quickly, not wanting him to think I'm trying to check up on him. "We'll see each other when you're back on the west coast."

"Are you kidding me, Ed? This is way cool!" The undisguised enthusiasm in his voice admittedly does my forty-four year old heart good - especially after speaking with his wench of a mother. Yeah, my son was worth all the mistakes. "Where exactly are you?"

"Uh…" I frown, searching my darkened surroundings. "The cab's just getting off the Brooklyn Bridge."

"Ness, how far is the Brooklyn Bridge?" he asks his girl.

"It's not far at all," I hear her say, "about ten minutes from here."

"Dad, you're only ten minutes away. Do you think you can stop by for five minutes?"

"If it's okay with you and Nessie, sure."

"Of course it's okay with us! Let me get you the address."

OOOOOOOOOO

The cab pulls up along the curb of a block close to the Hudson waterfront where converted turn-of-the-century factories have been restored and now house a variety of establishments: private lofts, small boutiques, white-walled galleries, and a few restaurants - one of which bears the name Anthony gave me. There's a crowd hanging outside and enjoying the music streaming from the restaurant. Among them is the tall, lean frame of my son hand in hand with a tall and beautiful blond.

"Here you go, buddy." I hand over the fare and a generous tip. "And thanks for the taxi-cab confessional."

He chuckles. "No problem, buddy. Good luck with that ex."

"Yeah, well, the only good luck there would be if…" I trail off, and we both share a laugh.

I climb out and walk over the cobbled street to the back of the cab, retrieving my garment bag from the trunk before it speeds off. Then I turn and watch Anthony and his girl make their way toward me. A few sets of eyes surreptitiously and not so surreptitiously follow them. They're a good-looking couple.

The girl gets even prettier the closer she gets. She's got this walk, not the side-to-side sashay or the kneel-and-worship-me strut, but it's not meek by any measure. Matter of fact, there's something familiar about that walk…

"Dad." Makes me proud how he's got no problem giving his old man a hug. "I can't believe this!"

"Cramping your style, am I?" I grin.

He gives me a shove. "Nah, I'm glad you're here. It's not like you and I see one another all that much." Then clearing his throat, he turns his attention to the girl at his side. "Nessie, this is my dad, Edward Masen. Dad, this is my girlfriend, Vanessa Laurent."

There's pure pride in that pronouncement, and before I can say anything, the girl lunges and wraps her arms around me, catching me off guard.

"Oh my God, it's so great to finally meet you, Mr. Masen!"

When she pulls away, she's got these sky blue eyes that sparkle and a smile that...that for some reason, also looks familiar.

"Wow, you two look so much alike, it's crazy! Anthony never mentioned he looked so much like his dad. He talks about you quite a bit!"

I chuckle. "Please, call me Edward. And it can't be more than he talks about you."

The girl giggles, and we both turn our eyes towards Anthony, who's got this red face on him I haven't seen since he was about twelve.

"Aww, that's so sweet!" She kisses his cheek. "I talk about you a lot too," she whispers, "to everyone."

And now, all traces of embarrassment on my son have been replaced with…well, with love. No other word for it. See, here's the thing with my son and me: we talk. We talk in an open way my own father never talked with me.

And here's the thing with Anthony and this girl: he's already told me she's the one.

 _He comes home one weekend a few weeks back, leaving his new girlfriend behind in school because she has some sort of project. So he and I are working under the Mustang we're restoring (An exact replica of the 1964 classic I owned in the late 80s and early 90s, which he thinks is for me but is really a graduation present for him). And as much as he loves the damn car, he's in a quiet and broody mood, and it's admittedly annoying the shit out of me. With him busy in school, I don't see him all that much, and this is supposed to be our time – father and son. So I pull out a couple of beers and sit him down right there on the sidewalk because like I said, we talk._

" _Come on, Anthony. What's going on here?"_

 _He gives me a look, and I won't lie, I don't like it too much._

" _Son, you just met this girl a few weeks ago."_

" _So what?" He lifts a brow. "You're going to sit there and tell me it takes longer than that to know you're committed?"_

 _I quirk a brow. "Whoa, it's like that then? We're talking 'knowing' and 'commitment'?"_

 _Like I said, we talk. He knows a few things about his old man's youth, those glory days when I thought I was_ **The** _Shit but turned out, I was actually The_ **Shit** _. No specifics, no. No names, dates, locations, or actual sins have been provided; I don't need to bias him against his parents any more than nature tends to do. But he knows his pop was basically an arrogant, egotistical, immature bastard._

 _Until_ _ **she**_ _came into the picture._

 _And yeah, I'd "known" pretty quickly. The sweet, smart, grunge-loving girl actually gave the boy with the cocky, arrogant grin the time of day. Pretty soon, she was everything. Then it was time to go off to college while she still had one more year of high school and a move to Phoenix with her parents. It all went downhill from there. The distance was hard, and when she told me something I didn't want to hear, I went to my pop for advice. He sat me down in a similar fashion to the way I'd just sat down Anthony, except the talk he gave me ran more along the lines of how I was too young to limit myself, how this was my chance to spread my wings, and how I needed to stop acting like a pussy-whipped chump._

 _She told me she wanted me forever, and I went off and fucked it up royally._

 _The rest is history – an old history I wouldn't ever want my son to repeat._

" _Sometimes it takes longer, and sometimes…" I exhale, "no, it doesn't take longer than that to know, but by the same token, you can't play games, Anthony." I scrub my jaw. "You're not a kid anymore, and if you're going to talk 'knowing' then you need to be a man about that."_

" _I don't play games, Dad; you taught me better than that."_

" _And don't talk commitment unless you see yourself growing old and crabby with her. Set aside the face, the body, and the sex and make sure you can see yourself just…holding her hand out on a porch. Know the difference between love and plain old lust because there is a difference – a big one. Plain old lust grows old, kid, while love…well, love's got lust and so much more mixed in there that it can never grow old. Always something new to discover there."_

" _I know the difference, Dad. Look, remember when you told me about that girl, the one you wonder about sometimes? The one you knew before Mom?"_

 _Of course I remember – she's the one I'm thinking of as I tell him all this._

" _Probably shouldn't have told you about that," I grin, staring down at my beer bottle._

" _Why, because of Mom? Dad, I've known you and Mom are oil and vinegar since I was like four, no matter how hard_ _ **you**_ _tried to hide it. But hey, you've always been there for me, so you think_ _ **that's**_ _going to damage me emotionally?" He snorts. "Anyway, the point is, you wonder, right?"_

" _Yeah." I nod. "Yeah, sometimes."_

" _ **I**_ _don't wonder, Dad. And I don't ever want to wonder. I_ _ **know**_ _here, Dad."_

 _I'm telling you. This kid. My heart. My pride._

 _And trusting that I've done my best, I nod. "Alright, son. Alright_."

And that's how we got to this point: Anthony takes an internship in New York. He consulted me, and together, we decided that career-wise, it would be a good idea.

But let's be fucking honest: the main reason he's here is because his girl lives in New York.

And hell, if we're being completely forthright, she's the main reason _I'm_ here as well.

I want to meet this girl that's got my son wrapped around her finger, the one that's got him talking "knowing" and "commitment." I've seen pictures, and yes, she's gorgeous. Trust me, I don't mind him being wrapped. My concern is whether the package he's wrapped around is as shiny on the inside as it is on the outside.

So I'm looking at her, and despite how admittedly stunning this young woman is, she doesn't seem like the vain, self-centered type. She's gazing at my son with the same open love with which he's gazing at her, and there's something sweet and honest and familiar in her, something I can't for the life of me place.

Anyway, we spend a few minutes talking, and I'm feeling much more at ease about Anthony being completely hooked on this girl. Then he checks the time on his cell phone.

"Ness, baby, maybe we should go back inside. Your mom might be looking for us."

"Yeah, fine. I'll just get going," I grin. "I've got an early meeting in the morning anyway."

"Trust me; if our table was ready, my mom would've already been out here to get us," Nessie says. Then to me, "Hey, Mr. Masen, why don't you stay and join us for dinner?"

"Thanks, Nessie, but I wouldn't want to intrude."

"It wouldn't be an intrusion at all!" She wraps her hand around my forearm, and there's this…warmth that spreads, and for a second, it scares the fuck out of me.

Swear to God, I'm not a dirty, perverted old man. Yes, I date occasionally - although not as much as my buddy, Jasper, would like me to. And though females of all ages tend to show interest, I stay the fuck clear of teens, twenties and way too early thirties. I'm past all that shit.

Besides, this is my son's girl! Heart to hand, I'm not attracted to her at all; it's nothing like that!

It's something in her eyes, something in her mannerisms, something I feel I should be seeing here…

"Ness, babe, are you sure your mom wouldn't mind?"

I'm snapped out of my panic by the panic in Anthony voice, which under normal circumstances would amuse me to no end because obviously, this girl's mother has already done a number on my son. But I'm too on edge by this strange, inexplicable sense of… _something_ to be amused.

Nessie smiles, and fuck, now I _know_ I've seen that smile before. "Look, I know Mom acted a bit insane earlier today, but she's not usually that weird. I promise you. Trust me, she'll be fine with it."

"Alright, if you're sure," Anthony says. He still looks wary though, but he meets my eyes and grins. "Come on, Dad. It'll be fun."

"Well…if you're _both_ sure Nessie's mom wouldn't mind," I answer distractedly.

OOOOOOOOOO

We make our way into the dark, noisy, and cramped downtown New York City restaurant. There's a line about a mile long just to get to the hostess section. Over the loud as hell speakers, I hear a group playing, whose sound was obviously inspired by the Seattle grunge scene of the nineties.

I'm suddenly attacked by a memory of _her_ in my old bedroom in her Doc Martens, ripped shorts, and flannel shirt singing along at the top of her lungs with Chris Cornell. (See what I mean? They hit during the most mundane moments).

"Is there someplace where I can leave this garment bag?" I ask Nessie and Anthony. I've got to yell to make myself heard.

"Yeah, I saw a coat check!" Anthony yells back.

"Stay with your dad!" Nessie says. "I'm going to go find Mom!"

Since the weather is warm, the coat check is mostly empty. Before I hand over the garment bag, I pass it to Anthony so he can hold it while I pull out a blazer to wear over my white button down and jeans. While I put on the blazer, Anthony hands the garment bag over to the coat check girl, who's an age somewhere between sixteen and forty-five and immediately tries to kick it to my son. He ignores her, and then she gets a look at me.

"Father and son?" she grins, handing me my claim ticket.

"Yes."

"You must both make the most _beautiful_ babies." She says this in a dreamy, sing-song voice.

"Thanks," I say. What else do you say to that?

Patting Anthony on the back, I jerk my chin towards the tables, and we walk away.

OOOOOOOOOO

They've packed in the tables. Patrons and waiters all run amok in a horde of frenzied activity. The wait staff balances trays of food and drinks high above their heads. By the looks on their faces, they're overwhelmed. Distracted and self-absorbed patrons crisscross the room. It's definitely a new place which hasn't learned how to handle the crowd just yet.

There's a bar all the way in the back. That's where Nessie seems to be headed when we spot her tall, blond form. She turns and signals for us to follow just as she approaches a woman seated at one of the bar stools.

I lean into Anthony and tease him. "The mom's a lush?"

"Oh, she's _something_ alright." He chuckles heartily. "Still trying to figure out what." I raise a brow, but he just laughs. "Nah, nah, she's really nice, just a little…" He twirls his finger close to his ear, "intense. I'll fill you in later."

Meanwhile, Nessie leans into the ear of the dark-haired woman at the bar, who has her back to us.

Even though she's seated, I can tell she's petite, a lot smaller than her daughter. She's got wavy, dark hair and a pair of shapely legs coming out of a pair of high, black heels. At the other end of the smooth legs is a short black dress. The stools have no back, so I notice the nice ass that narrows to a small waist. The entire package makes me think Mr. Laurent at the very least sleeps warmly even if his wife is a bit nuts - as Anthony insinuates. Then her head begins to turn super slow, like Nessie's just told her she's in a horror flick and the ax-wielding murderer is standing behind her about to chop off her head.

The shit is, my heart begins to race like I'm stuck in that same flick with her.

"Mr. Masen- I mean Edward, come meet my mom!"

It's so crowded that a couple of the waiters cut off Anthony and me as they sprint by holding trays of cocktail drinks high over their heads. In the confusion, I only manage to see half of Nessie's mom's face, but it's enough to know that my eyes have to be playing tricks on me. It's dark and crazy in here, and I've been thinking about her tonight. That's all it is.

Because it can't be.

It _can't_ be.

"'Scuse me! 'Scuse me! Out of the way! Coming through! Out of the way, please!"

The servers pass, and like deer caught in headlights, both of us just stare. I'm amazed by how, even after all these years, her eyes are just as deep and rich as in my memories.

"Out of the way! Out of the- OH SHIT!"

"Mom!"

"Dad!"

In the ensuing chaos, about a dozen voices rise up in horrified gasps. _She_ however, barely even flinches. She doesn't even seem the slightest bit upset – or even surprised – by the disaster on her dress.

The noisy restaurant has gone silent.

 _She_ calmly drops her gaze to the floor where I'm currently in a piled heap with the waiter who collided into me.

"Bella?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone furiously wiping at her dress, but that's all in my periphery because I can't tear my eyes away from her smirking mouth.

"Hello, Edward."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Did you guys really think I was going to stretch that out?**

 ***** I'd like to point out a wonderful Guest Reviewer, "Reminiscing," who said everything exactly the way I may have once said it if I still tried to justify my characters. But I've learned that disagreements, respectfully stated, are what fuel interesting discussion.**

 **Nevertheless, thank you, "Reminiscing." Perfectly put. :) *****

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRose817**

 **See you guys on Friday!**


	6. Chapter 6 - Catching Up

**A/N: Thank you so so much for all your wonderful thoughts, guys! You're all hilarious, keeping me laughing while I read your reviews. Thanks, loves. :)**

 **Betad by the wonderful Michelle Renker Rhodes. (Though I tinker through to the very end, so all remaining mistakes are mine).**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

 *****We will switch from one POV to another in this chapter*****

* * *

 **Chapter 6 – Catching Up**

 **Bella**

When I see him, I'm almost relieved.

I mean, there has to be some comfort in knowing that all your worst sins are about to come to light, right? It's like walking into a confessional; you come face to face with your worst transgressions...and move on.

At least, this is what I tell myself while Nessie and I hide out in the bathroom.

No, no; we're not really hiding out. She's "helping me clean up" the mess on my dress from the assortment of drinks spilled on me after a collision between an errant busboy and a man I haven't seen in a quarter of a century. So she crouches in front of me while I sit on the toilet (with the cover down, of course, and with every intention of scrubbing my dress and my ass hard when I get home), and together, we wipe at the stains with the fury of a couple of old biddies scratching off their Bingo cards.

"Bella, are you okay?"

Jay's voice seeps in from just outside the bathroom door. His friendly concern is touching – and extremely annoying at the moment.

"I'm fine, Jay! Just fine! Just cleaning up, and we'll be right out!"

Nessie sighs, eyes firmly on the bits of green mint still stuck to my chest. "So…"

And there goes all my relief.

"So…" I echo.

"You know Anthony's dad." It's not a question.

"Yes. Yes, I know him."

She stops scrubbing and meets my eyes. "From?"

"From a long time ago. We went to high school together."

"Where, in Seattle or Phoenix?"

"In Seattle, but…we kept in touch for a bit after your grandparents and I moved to Phoenix."

She gives me one of those slow nods which generally mean the wheels are turning dangerously inside a person's head. Standing, she walks to the sink and runs the cloth napkin we pilfered from the bar under the faucet stream.

"Did you…date him?"

"Yes."

The ever-so-slow nod continues. "For how long?"

"A little over a year."

She turns back to me, leaning against the sink and clutching the rim.

"Did you sleep with him?"

 _Fuuuuck_. _She did not just go there._

"Ness, you don't really want me to answer that."

"Ugh, you just did." Her beautiful face pales as her hands shoot up to cover her eyes. "God, just don't tell me I went off to college and met my long lost brother."

I spring off the toilet, half hysterically laughing and half choking as I pull her hands off her face. "Ness, jeez, no! I was a high school junior, he was a senior. The following fall, he went off to the University of Washington, and your grandparents and I moved to Phoenix because your Grandpa Charlie got a job over there. We were young, the distance was too much, and it ended. He got married at some point and made Anthony, and your father and I fell in love, married, and made you."

She scrutinizes me through big, blue eyes. "And that's it?"

"That's it."

Which in and of itself is all true, but as they say, the devil is in the sordid details.

"Oh my God," she exhales, "for a few seconds there, I saw us as guests on a seedy daytime talk show."

My responding chuckle is admittedly a bit shaky. Though her fundamental fear is unfounded, I do realize that this here is Opportunity Number Two knocking for me to come clean with the aforementioned sordid details.

But that's much easier said than done.

"Why didn't you just tell me that you knew Anthony's dad instead of acting all insane earlier? And don't try to say you didn't realize who his dad was from the very beginning!" she points a warning finger my way.

"You're right, you're right; I should've told you, and I'm sorry for that. But I guess I panicked. It was all so strange, and then I just didn't know how to say it."

Those blue eyes keep studying me. Then with a resigned sigh as if she's just learned that her mother is in fact not the Virgin Mary and may very well be Jezebel instead, she moves close again and hands me the wet napkin.

"Ugh, this dinner is going to be so awkward now."

"It'll be fine," I say with feigned confidence as I finish cleaning off. "It's just a dinner. Afterward, the four of us need never be in the same room together again."

She holds my gaze warily but says nothing in return.

If anything, her discomfort is confirmation that I made the right call in omitting the rest. If she thinks _this_ will be awkward, the rest of the sordid details would just be...painful. So if this bathroom is to be my confessional, then I'll divulge just enough about the past, but the Pandora's Box in my heart need not be opened. Instead, I'll pay the pied piper or say three _Hail Mary's_ or whatever the penance may be which will allow us all to go on with our lives. Some things aren't meant to be shared.

Because as I told Alice earlier, you can't start over. Once the batch is burned, it's burned, and that batch was scorched a long, long time ago. I've got to focus on the batch I've got baking now, which means regaining control here.

Yes. I sigh internally, my insides flooding with relief now that my head is clearing. Yes, it's time to regain control.

OOOOOOOOOO

 **Edward**

I sit on the bar stool which Bella (my God, _Bella_ ) vacated a few minutes earlier, wiping off the cocktails which spilled all over me when the busboy and I collided. To most, it probably appears as if my only concern is cleaning off the bits of mint still clinging to my pants.

Trust me, there's a shitload more than that going on in my head.

Anthony sits on a stool next to mine, leaning across the bar counter looking like he too has no care in the world. But I know my son. I'm sure there's a certain amount of pandemonium going on in his head as well.

"Here you go, handsome. You need help with that?"

The bartender places another glass of club soda in front of me and leans low across the counter, providing a bird's eye view of the top swell of her breasts.

I avert my gaze as I take the clean napkin from her. "Thanks, but I've got it."

"You sure?"

"He's sure." Anthony drops a ten on the counter and slides it over to the bartender. "Thanks for your help," he says dismissively. She takes it and backs away, winking at us both before turning to another customer.

After that, my son doesn't bother mincing words. "So, Ed, what's the story between you and Mrs. Laurent?"

My heart is still racing from the events which transpired a few minutes ago. Instinctively, my eyes flash in the direction in which Bella (my God, _Bella_ ) and her daughter disappeared before returning to my son.

"It's a bit of a long one, and I don't think we have the time right now."

He sits up straight and folds his arms against his chest. "Then give me the short, sweet, and to the point version, and we can fill in the blanks later."

Not only is he not going to let this go, but he's got every right to know what just went down. With a deep breath, I fling the napkin over the counter and take the plunge.

"Do you remember…" I rake a hand through my hair, fisting it tightly, with absolutely no clue as to where to even begin. "All right. You and I have spoken about the fact that when I was young, I was immature and stupid and couldn't appreciate true value – which is why I've taught you differently."

"Yeah," he prompts impatiently.

"There was a girl…"

It only takes him two seconds after that. "Wait a minute, the one that got away? The one before Mom?"

"Yeah," I nod. "Yeah, that one."

His mouth falls open. For a few moments, he just sits there, staring at me with wide eyes. Then he jerks a thumb behind him in the direction which Bella and her daughter disappeared.

"Mrs. Laurent? Nessie's _mom_?"

"Yeah. Nessie's mom. Bella." (My God, _Bella_ )

"Holy…" He stares at me, unblinking now, his hand doing the raking and fisting.

"Jesus. Oh _Jesus_ ," he groans, squeezing his eyes shut as if he's just realized what I've been saying. "You slept with my girlfriend's _mom_."

Just then, Bella's husband, who'd been furiously helping her wipe off her dress after our encounter, emerges from the restroom area. He begins walking towards us.

"We'll finish talking later. Her husband's coming."

"Her _what_?" My poor son is still confused.

When Bella's husband reaches us, he grins pleasantly, though I detect a sliver of irritation in his expression. I mean, I did ruin his wife's dress - and sleep with her.

"You okay, buddy?" he asks.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Guess I didn't move out of the way fast enough," I snort.

He nods, chuckling. "It happens. It's a new place, and it's crowded and busy."

"So I see." I chuckle in return. Then I clear my throat. "I hope I didn't cause Bella too much trouble."

"I hope not as well."

For a few seconds, we stare at one another, and I picture this guy dressed in a tux, marrying _her_ , making love to _her_ for all these years, being the one who fathered _her_ child…

He stretches out a hand, and I stand to take it.

"I'm Jacob Black, an old friend of the family."

While we shake hands, I only vaguely note the unnecessarily tight grip he gives me (maybe to make up for the height difference?) because I'm stuck on the second half of that statement.

"Come again? A friend of the family? I thought-"

"Dad, Nessie's dad passed away a couple of years ago."

My eyes quickly shift to Anthony, who's smirking my way.

"Bella's a widow?"

Anthony nods. When I look back at the family friend, I realize I'm still shaking his hand.

"Good to meet you, Jacob. I'm Edward Masen. I apologize; I thought you were Bella's husband - Nessie's dad."

His head moves up and down slowly, dark gaze tighter than it was a few seconds earlier.

"Bella's husband, Sam, was one of my best friends. Before he passed away, I promised him I'd help watch over Nessie _and_ Bella." As he says this, his chest balloons, his chin lifts, and his shoulders square and straighten. "So you're the kid's dad?" He jerks that uplifted chin in Anthony's direction.

Now, had he been Bella's husband and/or Nessie's dad, I may have shown the deference he's obviously aiming for here. Meanwhile, Anthony stiffens at the "kid" comment, but I've raised him well enough to allow it to slide. The guy really isn't trying to be a prick to him – just to me.

"Anthony is my son, yes."

Family Friend nods again. He points at me, then turns that finger in the direction which Bella and her daughter headed a few moments ago, then back to me.

"You and Bellaaa…know each other?" he grins, eyes narrowing. "Because I thought I detected some recognition."

"You detected correctly." I return the grin crookedly. "We do know one another."

"Oh?" He chuckles and digs his hands deep into his pant pockets. "I was just curious because like I said, I'm an old friend, and Bell has never mentioned-"

"I hope we haven't kept you all waiting too long?"

For the past couple of minutes, the telling and somewhat amusing conversation with Family Friend has worked to distract me from the chaos in my head. But with the familiar sound of that voice, all chaos returns.

I shift my eyes away from Family Friend and toward the voice.

 _Bella_.

The wind is knocked out of me as much as it was when I fell on my ass a few minutes ago. I don't know; maybe some part of my brain still thought I was imagining things, but Jesus Christ, it _is_ her: Bella Swan.

Or I suppose it's Bella Laurent now: Widow. She looks…yes, she looks older. After a quarter of a century, there are bound to be changes. The round youthfulness of her features have narrowed and matured into an elegantly beautiful face. Her figure is curvier than that of the slim seventeen-year-old girl of my dreams and memories. The dress and heels she's wearing are unlike anything the grunge-loving, Seattle-dwelling Bella of my youth would've ever worn.

Yet so much of her is still the same: that smile, Jesus, I should've recognized it off the bat on her daughter. Her eyes…even in this dimly-lit restaurant, her dark eyes still stand out against her creamy skin. And her hair – it used to fall in careless waves all the way to her bottom; now the graceful waves end stylishly at her shoulders. She used to be a pretty girl; that was never a question.

Now she's an absolutely gorgeous woman.

"Bella."

Ever so slowly, her eyes sweep over to me as I hold my breath. When they finally meet mine, I exhale because they're as dark as they ever were, sparkling just as they used to, and I'm equal parts thrilled and surprised by the easy grin she graces me with.

Meanwhile, Anthony has stood and moved to his girlfriend's side.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I note the three sets of eyes intently on us.

"Edward."

She says my name in that pleasant way in which you greet a friend you haven't seen in over two decades, not the way you greet an old boyfriend who…who for all intents and purposes, cheated on you.

"How have you been, Edward? It's been a long time."

"Yes, it has, Bella." I hear the shakiness in my voice, and it takes some effort to return the grin. "I've been good, thanks. And you?"

"Very good, for the most part. Isn't this the craziest coincidence?"

"It's definitely something," I agree. "I would've never imagined-"

"Bell, honey, how'd you do with that stain?"

Family Friend angles himself toward her, severing our eye contact. She turns her attention to him, and they both look down at her dress. There's a wet spot on her cleavage – her still perky-looking cleavage, by the way. I can't even help it; an image of those breasts, their full weight in my hands, their sweetness on my tongue, rushes through my head.

Meanwhile, Family Friend is really interested in that stain.

"It's fine, Jay," She smiles softly, waving off his concern. "I'll just send it to the cleaners, and it'll be as good as new."

"I'm so sorry, Bella," I say. "I was…shocked to see you, to say the least." I chuckle nervously. "You'll have to let me pay to get it cleaned."

She returns her eyes to me. "It's just a small stain, Edward. No need to pay for anything."

"I insist."

We're both quiet while the restaurant's activity hums all around us.

"Here, Bell, why don't you put this on until that wet spot dries?" Family Friend takes off his suit jacket and wraps it around Bella's shoulders.

"Oh. All right, thanks, Jay." She breaks our gaze again as she pulls the jacket's lapels around her, and Family Friend helps her adjust it just right. Meanwhile, Nessie raises her hand in the air, displaying a blinking, black beeper.

"Mom, the table's ready!"

"Finally!" Once again, Bella returns her eyes to me, friendly smile still in place. "Edward, Nessie tells me you'll be joining us?"

I'm forty-four years old; I know I am. The mirror reminds me daily of the passage of time. I've got a few grays at my temples and a couple of lines on my forehead. I run a couple of extra miles every day, train at the gym longer than I used to all to maintain muscle tone I once took for granted. Every once in a while, when I've pushed myself to the limit, my back aches like a mother-fucker.

But right now, I'm eighteen-years-old again, and sixteen-year-old Bella Swan, the good girl who shouldn't be giving a guy like me the time of day, has decided to do just that.

"If it's not an inconvenience," I grin widely. "It'd be great to catch up with you."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Family Friend's shoulders stiffen.

"It's not an inconvenience at all. Shall we, then?" Without waiting for anyone, she starts walking.

Nessie follows. She glances back warily at Anthony, who clears his throat and claps first Family Friend's back and then mine.

"All right, guys; if your old, arthritic legs can manage to keep up, let's not keep the ladies waiting." He grins wryly and follows behind Nessie.

I chuckle and clap Family Friend's shoulder. "These young kids nowadays; they've got no respect for their elders, do they?"

Family Friend chuckles in return, but he doesn't seem amused - not at all. And as I follow the rest and leave Jacob to bring up the rear, I snort silently to myself. Anthony just couldn't let that "kid" comment slide, could he?

Too much like his old man, I guess.

OOOOOOOOOO

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but your current reservation was for four, not five. If you want to change it _yet again_ , it'll be another half hour."

"How the heck does adding one more person to the table add another half hour to the wait? Can't you just squeeze in another chair?"

This debate is occurring at the hostess stand.

I shoulder past Family Friend, Anthony, and gently nudge Nessie so that I can stand next to Bella.

"It's _a lot_ more involved than that, ma'am."

"How so?"

I move close to Bella's ear. "Bella, if it's going to be a hassle, we can catch up some other time."

The urge to brush my lips against the delicate skin of her neck is almost overpowering, especially when another memory hits me, this one of how much she used to love having her neck bitten and kissed...the soft sounds she used to make...the way her body would arch closer to mine...

My errant memories and the restaurant's dim lights play tricks on my eyes, making me see goosebumps rise on her bare flesh, her lips part on uneven breaths. Before any sound can make its way out of her mouth, the hostess looks up and grins.

"Oh, it's no hassle at all, sir! It would be my pleasure to _squeeze_ you in!" She turns around, picks up five menus, and shoves them into a waiting waiter's hands. "Table Seven." Eyes back to me. "Have a wonderful dinner, sir!"

Here, Bella turns her head and looks up at me. Small laugh lines from what I hope has been a lifetime of good things appear around dark eyes still framed by long, thick lashes.

She quirks a perfect brow. "I see not much has changed."

"I did nothing but stand there." That smile...I'm still over the moon with it. Like I said, this isn't the greeting I would've expected – not in a million years. God knows I don't deserve it.

"You never had to do more than that, Edward."

"And you always gave me hell for it, Bella."

We share a laugh, and those memories just keep coming rushing through my brain like a dam has been broken. I remember she was never the type to let me get away with shit. I knew that, yet I pushed anyway. The way she's looking at me makes me wonder if she's recalling something similar.

"Come on, Bell. We're losing the waiter."

Family Friend places his hand on the small of Bella's back and leads her away. Anthony and Nessie both stare at me for a couple of seconds before following.

This time, I bring up the rear.

OOOOOOOOOO

Over the years, I've imagined a few variations of the scene where Bella and I meet again.

I've never pictured hysterics; Bella was never one for hysterics. But I did imagine scenarios where I'd see her on a crowded street and stand there, overjoyed - until she'd walk past and pretend she didn't know me. I've also imagined scenes where she'd stop and very calmly call me an asshole before resuming her stride. I pictured silent scowls and deadly glares.

All of which, as I've said, I would've more than deserved.

What I never envisioned were having her sweet smiles ever directed at me again.

I sure as hell never imagined that her daughter would fall in love with my son or vice versa.

And I never imagined sitting around a crowded table at a restaurant in New York City with her, my son, her daughter, and a clearly pissed off Family Friend rounding out the dinner party.

"How long have you been living in New York, Bella?"

I haven't even set eyes on the menu in my hands. True to Bella's suggestion, we've been squeezed into a table meant for four. Anthony and Nessie sit side by side, hushed whispers flowing between them. Bella is squeezed in between Family Friend and me.

Bella, whose attention was, in fact, intently on the menu, sets it down and smiles at me. "We've been in New York since my daughter was two. And you? Your son mentioned you live in California?"

"Yeah. I've been there for about eighteen years now. We moved there after-"

"Bella, honey," – Family Friend scoots his chair closer as if he isn't practically on her lap as it i. He leans into her, his eyes on his menu – "I've heard the steak here is really good; although, if you haven't been feeling well today, maybe you'd prefer a soup?" He shifts his menu closer so that they can share. "Oh, look, they have that Italian Minestrone you like."

He succeeds in turning the discussion over to the dinner ordering process until the waiter comes around. Everyone places their orders, and when the waiter leaves, I clear my throat and try again.

"Bella, I know Anthony said he already thanked you, but I want to reiterate our appreciation for allowing him to stay with you until he finds a place here for the summer. It's…strange. I would've never thought you were his girlfriend's mom."

"He has thanked me," she says, "over and over again."

Anthony chuckles.

"You and Tanya certainly taught him good manners."

Here, any modicum of ease I may have begun to feel is annihilated. She was never stupid; of course, she'd realize who Anthony's mother is.

"So how long have you been married, Edward?" Family Friend pounces on what he assumes is a wife in the picture.

"I _was_ married for three years. I've been divorced for nineteen."

My eyes are still on Bella, who watches me with no outward reaction to this information.

"Oh," Family Friend says. The disappointment echoed in that one syllable is almost comical. "I'm sorry about that."

"Nothing to be sorry for. We tried, it didn't work, so we made the decision to do what was best for our son. Do you have children, Jacob?"

"Nope. Never been married."

"How come?" An invasive question, yes. But the fucker isn't being subtle here at all.

His jaw squares and he sits up straighter, messing with his tie. "I suppose I haven't found the right one."

I simply nod and stare at him for a couple of seconds before returning my attention to Bella.

"Bella, Nessie seems like a wonderful young woman. You… _and_ your husband," I say with clear respect in my tone, "obviously did a good job as well."

Nessie blushes in exactly the same manner in which her mother used to blush when she was younger, and again, I marvel at my stupidity for not seeing the resemblance from the very beginning.

"Thanks, Edward," Nessie says.

"Yes. Thank you, Edward. Vanessa is a good girl, and you're right; I can't take all the credit."

"Oh, jeez, Mom." Nessie sighs self-consciously.

Bella chuckles. She pushes back a stray lock of hair from her daughter's face. "What? I'm allowed to be proud, aren't I?"

Nessie drops her head and shakes it from side to side, but she's chuckling too.

"Your mom is right, Nessie," Family Friend butts in. "She's always been very proud of you." Here, he releases a heavy breath. "And your dad was very proud of you as well. He told me so plenty of times."

Both women fall silent.

"He was very proud," Bella says softly.

Nessie's smile is painfully wistful. "Thanks, Uncle Jay."

Family Friend isn't done, though. He raises his wine glass in a toast. "To Nessie, for a successful end to her first year of college and to much success in the future. _All_ of us who've known you since you were a little girl are extremely proud of the young woman you've become. Had your dad been here, he would've been busting at the seams."

By this point, Nessie looks close to tears. Anthony pulls her into his side, and though he's holding up a wine glass, he looks more like he wants to bash it across Family Friend's head than toast with it.

Nevertheless, Family Friend has raised his glass, and the rest of us follow suit.

"To Nessie," we all mumble.

For the rest of the dinner, Family Friend monopolizes Bella's attention, and it's clear I won't be able to say to her any of the things I've needed to say for twenty-five years. Whatever conversation she and I hold is superficial, perfunctory and stunted. It's clear that I'm the interloper here, the fifth wheel, the unwanted guest.

When the waiter returns with our dessert menus, Family Friend grins and turns to Bella.

"We don't need the menu. Bell, hon, what was today's selection?"

"Ugh, Nutella Scones," she says with a roll of her eyes.

He nods and addresses the waiter, one arm casually draped over the back of Bella's chair. "Please bring us a selection of the Nutella Scones."

When the waiter walks away, Bella grimaces. "Jay, I don't know if I'm up for Nutella Scones tonight."

"I don't know if I am either." Nessie and Anthony look at one another and share a shudder.

"Why not?" Family Friend looks from one woman to the other. "That's the whole reason we're here, isn't it? I'm sure they're a delicious concoction," - over the table, he wraps his hand around Bella's - "and they were baked fresh for your belly."

Give me a fucking break here, man.

"Now where did I hear that stupid line?" I snort. "Oh yeah, on the cab ride over here for some cakes or pastries or something."

The entire table falls silent.

"Dad, that's the tagline for Mrs. Laurent's baking business: Swan Bellies – baked fresh for your belly."

 _Ah, fuck._

I look at Bella. "Bella, you have a baking business?"

She nods, once again smirking my way. "Yes, Edward, I do."

"I don't remember you ever being into baking."

"That's because I wasn't into baking back then. But it's been twenty-five years since we've seen one another, Edward."

There's a mountain of meaning behind her words, and as we hold one another's gaze, the only thing that holds my tongue is the presence of my son and his girlfriend. I owe him an explanation first.

But Family Friend's tongue isn't held back by anything.

"Twenty-five years?" He whistles low through his teeth. "Man, that's a lifetime right there. You two must've been practically babies last time you saw each other. Lots of changes." He picks up his wine glass and sips it calmly.

"It was May of 1991. I was nineteen. She was seventeen." I keep my eyes on Bella. "So no, we weren't babies."

Bella lifts a brow. "We weren't babies, but we were very young, and there _have_ been lots of changes."

"I'm sure there have been, which will make the catching up all the more interesting."

"Nineteen and seventeen, huh?" Family Friend says. "I remember being that young. You think you know so much about life, but a couple of decades later, you realize you didn't know jack."

Of course I see what he's doing.

He's been the Family Friend for what, almost two decades? Which means he's most likely spent years admiring her from afar when he couldn't have her, then giving her time and space when opportunity recently came knocking. He treats her like a little china doll; I see that already. Tip-toes around her, taking it slow and easy before creeping in so quietly she won't even see it coming.

Now he thinks he knows how I'm going to approach things with the young widow who needs time and space and kid gloves. He wants her to hear my tepid and easy-going answers about how you don't know jack at that age, about how whatever you felt back then has no bearing on life now. He thinks I have no choice other than to agree with his fucked up philosophy so that long time, patient Family Friend will trump popped-out-of-the-blue Long Ago Boyfriend.

He doesn't know me, and he sure as fuck doesn't know a thing about the things I've wanted to let this woman know for a quarter of a century.

I pick up my beer.

"You're right. You do think you know a lot at that age, and then plenty of your views shift and do an about-face as the years wear on. Yet other views remain unchanged. You look back, and while there are decisions you would've made the same stroke for stroke, others you spend a quarter of a century questioning."

"The stupidity of youth." Bella grins lazily, and as she picks up her wine glass, she studies me over the rim before bringing it to her red lips. I take in the elegant movement of her neck while the liquid runs smoothly down her throat, then I bring my eyes back up to hers.

When I next speak, I forget everyone else at the table.

"Sometimes. But sometimes it's the inexperience of youth. It doesn't mean you didn't know jack. Some of the truths you knew back then were the most manifest truths you'll ever know in your life, and the stupidity…the inexperience…was allowing yourself to be swayed away from them. Yet those are the things for which the passage of time lends a better perspective."

"Time is an eraser, Edward, wiping away all those truths we once supposedly held as self-evident." Her finger slowly circles around the wine glass rim.

"Sometimes. Yet sometimes, time is a magnifier, bringing into sharp focus all those truths you once held…and lost. And the passing decades and a couple of hours are enough to amplify those truths, to show you that…that it's time to believe in them...to make a stand for them all over again."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Not easy to get it all out there when there are 3 other nosey people at the table with you, lol.**

 *****Chapter Song Rec:** ** _Uninvited_** **by Alanis Morissette (Perfect for this chapter, IMO).*****

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **Have a great weekend!**


	7. Chapter 7 - No Whoopie Whoopies

**A/N: Thanks so much for your continued thoughts. I truly appreciate all of them. :)**

 **Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes (though I tinker through to the very end, so all remaining mistakes are mine, AND I have a sick child at home today so the editing took a back seat, lol).**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 7 – No Whoopie Whoopies**

" _Edward, if it hurts too much, we're not doing this again."_

 _Edward chuckled, the sound low in his throat as he thrust slowly and carefully inside me in the back seat of his Mustang. His lips brushed tenderly over mine, whispering shakily against my mouth. "I'll try my best not to hurt you, Bella. I promise."_

 _"And don't forget I have to be home by midnight," I breathed in his ear, digging my fingernails into his shoulders and trying to distract myself from the discomfort which, despite his assurances, was bordering on painful._

 _"I'll have you home on time," he assured me. Then he cupped my face, holding my gaze. "We can stop if you want - if it's hurting too much. We can stop, Bella."_

 _I could feel the effort it took him to say those words, and somehow knowing he'd stop regardless of how much he was enjoying this, helped to numb the discomfort._

 _"No," I smiled. "I don't want to stop."_

 _With a quivery crooked grin, Edward continued pushing himself in, his moist mouth trailing kisses all over my face, neck and shoulders. Little by little, his words and his touch helped ease the discomfort and turn it into something so much better._

 _It was early August of 1990. In a week, I'd be leaving Seattle with my parents for a move to Phoenix. A week after that, Edward would begin college at the University of Washington._

 _Since we'd be apart for my actual seventeenth birthday, Edward had picked me up at about six and taken me to one of the restaurant chains on the Seattle waterfront overlooking Elliott Bay. He'd told me to go ahead and order whatever I wanted, but I felt guilty about having him spend too much. After all, he'd be starting college soon. So instead of lobster or steak or any of the pricier meals, I ordered the coconut prawns appetizer as my main course._

 _After dinner, we drove about sixty miles north to the Olympic Mountains. The sun was setting when we arrived, and we parked high enough where the Mustang could overlook the river. We retracted the car's top, and the rush of water crashing against the rocks below mixed and mingled with the heavy guitars of the tape playing on the car stereo as well as with our breaths and low moans while we explored our bodies in the back seat._

 _"Bella…we don't have to do this," Edward groaned as his hands curved around my bare breasts. "Just because…" – his tongue darted over my nipple, and I arched my back, cradling his face closer – "just because we'll be apart doesn't mean we have to…I'll wait for you." He wrapped his mouth around my breast, making me whimper. "I'll wait as long as you need me to."_

 _He looked up suddenly and met my eyes, the green in his so vibrant and bright under the mountain's stars. "I love you, Bella Swan. I'll always love you – forever, no matter what."_

 _I swallowed thickly, knowing with a certainty only possessed in your youth that despite our ages and despite the distance that would soon exist between us, this was real. Edward and I…it was forever. There was no point in waiting._

 _I cupped his face in my hand. "I love you too, Edward – forever, no matter what."_

OOOOOOOOOO

 _"Seriously, how hard is it to be on time? He was supposed to be here ten minutes ago."_

 _"He does have other patients, sweetie."_

 _"Yes, but if you tell someone you're going to be someplace at a certain time…" I checked my watch again._

 _Sam chuckled, his blue eyes taking me in tiredly yet calmly. "It's not as if I'm going anywhere."_

 _I looked up at him, and he smiled. When I saw a slight shiver run up his frame, I moved to adjust the hospital blankets around him._

 _"Are you cold? Do you need me to turn down the A/C?"_

 _"I'm fine, I'm fine."_

 _"It is kind of chilly in here. I don't know why hospitals always keep their rooms so cold."_

 _"Most likely to keep the germs at bay. I'm fine, Bella. Keep reading to me. I like the strange voices you make." His blue eyes laughed at me. Those eyes, they were exactly like our daughter's eyes, and no matter how…exhausted he ever was, they were always so vibrant._

 _Vibrant eyes._

 _"You just enjoy making fun of me," I said, pursing my lips. "Fine. Where were we? Okay. '_ _ **What is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms…"**_

 _My throat tightened. "Oh, for the love of God." I checked my watch once more and groaned when I found that two more minutes had transpired and still no oncologist. "Where is he?"_

 _"Isabella, relax." Sam lay a hand over mine. "It makes no difference whether Dr. Stevens shows up at three p.m., three-thirty p.m., four p.m., four fifteen..."_

 _"Nessie is done with school for the day, and she'll be here any minute."_

 _"Nessie knows what's going on, Bell. She's not a little girl anymore."_

 _I stared down at the white sheets covering his thin frame._

 _"Come on, keep reading."_

 _"Okay. '_ _ **Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory…and our great tragedy'."**_

 _"Bella, promise me something."_

 _I lifted my eyes back to him._

 _"Promise me you'll fall in love again."_

 _"What?" I choked. "What in the world are you talking about, Sam?"_

 _"You're young, super smart, super funny, and super beautiful. The gods have fashioned you for love," he grinned. "When you're ready, find someone worthy to share all that with."_

 _"What makes you think I can do that? What makes you think I'd even_ _ **want**_ _to do that?" I asked, my voice quivering._

 _He smiled tenderly. "You loved before me, Bella. You can love after me."_

 _I shook my head. "That was…you know how that ended."_

 _"How it ended didn't make it any less real. Perhaps I was selfish by not telling you that when we first started out."_

 _"Sam-"_

 _"Perhaps it ended that way because the timing just wasn't right. Perhaps there's an angel watching over all of us. Perhaps you_ _ **were**_ _meant for me for all these wonderful years. Perhaps…you and I had a life to build, a wonderful daughter to create, and now…"_

 _"Sam, stop. You're blabbering."_

 _He chuckled. "Look, I'm not telling you to go looking for him specifically, but if you meet someone…"_

 _"I'm_ _ **your**_ _wife."_

 _He chuckled again, indulgently. He always indulged me. "And you're a great one. And you'll honor my memory by living a full life, not by being a lonely widow."_

OOOOOOOOOO

"Oh my God, Bella." Alice moans through a mouth full of pie. "These are amazing! And you can taste the lavender in them."

I blink the memories out of my head and look at my sister-in-law. "Well, I should hope so. They're infused with dried lavender flowers."

" _You,_ Bella Swan Laurent _,_ are a baking genius."

"Thanks." A long, tired yawn escapes me. It's almost seven in the morning, and I've been baking and working on today's creation for a few hours already. Usually, the day's offering is planned weeks in advance, but after the events of last evening, I needed something to occupy my mind.

It took some time, and the kitchen looks like Kansas after Dorothy's tornado adventure. Still, I'm satisfied with the resulting _No Whoopie Under my Roof Pies_ infused with a generous dollop of Lavender and White Chocolate Buttercream.

Alice and I sit around the island counter in the kitchen. Upstairs, Swan Bellies pastry chefs, taken for a bit of a loop this morning after the unannounced recipe swap, now apply the finishing touches on the small pies. Soon they'll be delivered to select cafés around the city, and the process will be complete.

"Mm, mm! Oh God! Oh my God!"

While Alice continues with her wildly appreciative sounds, an amalgamation of images swim through my head: my husband's final wishes for me…my daughter no longer being mine to control…nineteen-year-old Edward making love to me for the first time in the back of his Mustang in the middle of the Olympic Mountains.

Alice chews her pie quietly for a bit, and then all at once says, "So…you had a crazy day yesterday, huh?

"Hell yeah." I rest my elbows over the counter and cradle my head in my hands.

"Had I known it was going to be that exciting, I would've skipped work and the business dinner."

"I'm not sure it would've been worth all that."

She gulps down the last bite and makes a show of licking her fingers. "First, Nessie's boyfriend turns out to be the son of the first guy you ever loved, the guy who broke your heart. Then that same guy turns up at the restaurant where you're all having dinner and collides with a waiter, who spills a tray of cocktails all over you. Last but not least, he may or may not have declared he's ready to fall in love with you all over again. You're telling me all that wouldn't have been worth my missing a day of work?"

I flick leftover dough remnants out of my nail beds. "Barely."

Her ensuing silence is more than a little bit loaded. When she does speak, her question doesn't match her expression.

"So how does he look?"

The glow of dawn seeps in through the kitchen windows.

"Alice, why the hell do guys age so much better than women?"

Alice has Laurent hair: blond, thick, and lustrous. When she shakes her head, it's like one of those hair product commercials around here.

"Number one, men, in my humble opinion, are like cuts of steak: they must already be of some quality to age well. A piece of chop meat won't ever age into a filet mignon. Number two, don't start with your self-deprecating bullshit. You look great-"

"For someone my age."

"-for someone _any_ age. Don't fucking start-"

"Alright, alright, alright!" I raise a hand, equal parts surrender and a plea to halt her tirade.

"Number three, what you're saying without actually saying is that he's hot."

"He was always good-looking, and he knew it; consequently, he couldn't keep his dick in his pants."

Alice rests her elbow on the counter and her chin in her hand. "I know what he did, and I know the aftermath, but you've never gone into detail about what your actual relationship with him was like."

"Because there's no point in going into it deeper, Alice. We were kids, who got carried away with each other for a while before he proved how immature boys that age tend to be."

With that, I jump off the stool and take her plate and half-empty glass of milk with me to the overflowing sink. The water's streaming spray displaces leftover crumbs and frosting from all the baking implements I went through in the wee hours of the morning.

"We could talk about it," she says, her voice mellow. "You know, if his sudden reemergence has stirred up memories."

"Am I that transparent?"

"Not usually, no, but this kitchen looks like my kitchen, which is so not you."

Chuckling, I don my rubber gloves and snatch the sponge out of its resting place. "There's nothing to talk about. It happened, but then I met you and Sam…"

"And Sam was good to you."

I smile into the sink. "He was very good to me."

"You can talk to me, you know. Sammy was my brother, but we're women, Bella. I know what it's like."

I sigh, scrubbing a dish round and round. "It hurt for a while, Alice; you know it did. But once Sam and I got married, and after Nessie finally came along, my life was too full to dwell on Edward…or on what happened."

We're both quiet for a while. When I realize I'm still scrubbing the same damn dish, I suck in a breath through my teeth and move on to the next. "Anyway, Edward doesn't seem to have changed much despite the quarter of a century that's passed. I just wonder how much of his brazenness his son has inherited. I don't want Nessie to have to deal with all that when they break up."

" _When_ they break up? What if they don't break up, Bella?"

My hands freeze around the glass cup I'm currently rinsing, and I whip around to face Alice. Soap suds drip over my floor, and even as I open my mouth, I mentally remind myself to wipe them down.

I shoot her my best evil eye. "What do you mean _what if they don't break up_?"

"I mean what if Anthony is the one for her?"

"She's only nineteen, Alice."

She shrugs. "Nessie wouldn't be the first or the last to meet her soul mate in her teens."

I quirk a brow. "Listen to yourself. Her soul mate? That's ridiculous." With a snort, I turn back to the dishes. "Her soul mate. As if I'd allow her to end up with Edward's son."

"Like I've told you before, honey, though you like controlling things, who Nessie ends up with is likely out of your hands."

When I say nothing, Alice laughs.

"All I'm saying is give the son a chance. His father's sins shouldn't reflect on him. Besides, you told me Ness wasn't too happy with the way you treated her man yesterday. Keep your cool, Bella. You don't want to push her away by being a bitch to Anthony or by forcing her to take sides."

Giving up (for the time being) on the mountain of dirty implements, I wipe off my hands on the apron and return my attention to her.

"I _am_ keeping my cool. Despite everything, I remained in control yesterday – well, other than fainting, vomiting, and almost spewing wine all over the table when Edward began spewing his nonsense."

"Hm." Alice's brow furrows.

"What now?" I place my hands on my hips and walk back towards her. "What does _hm_ mean?"

She falls into deep concentration, one long leg bouncing over the other. "How old is Edward anyway, early to mid-forties?"

"I'm forty-two, which means he's forty-four," I say warily.

"Hm," she says again. "I just think it would be pretty childish and immature to play games at his age – and in front of his son no less."

I grab her shoulders. "Yes! Yes! That's exactly what I'm saying here!"

She smirks. "My point is…what if he actually meant it? What if he was so swept away by his emotions after seeing you and just couldn't fake control as well as you?"

"Are you _defending_ him?"

She wraps her hands around mine and pulls me off of her. "Sweetie, it's just a 'what if.' I'm not a lawyer between the hours of eleven p.m. and seven a.m. No defense or prosecution involved."

"You know, your brother would be really pissed at you right now. _Defending_ Edward," I scowl.

"I don't think he would. Sam would just want you and Ness to be happy. I know that for a fact." She holds my gaze for a few seconds. "So what did Jay do throughout all this?"

"You know how Jay is. Protective."

She snorts. "I think the word you mean is _Territorial_."

"Al," I sigh because we've gone through this before, "he was one of Sam's best buddies."

"Yes, and he was in love with his buddy's wife."

"I don't think you're right – at least not back then."

"Pfft." Alice has never been a big fan of Jay.

I take a seat next to her. "Look, talking about all this is a waste of time anyway. Jay is just a friend, and Edward mentioned he had a couple of meetings today and would then be on his way back to California. I say goodbye and good riddance. Now if he would just take his son with him…" I chuckle ala wicked witch.

"Stop it!" Alice hisses. She looks in the direction of the hallway. "If Nessie hears you-"

Voices in the hallway precede the appearance of Nessie and The Spawn.

"Aunt Alice!"

Ness runs to her aunt, and they both squeal and hug. Though Alice is my age, she and Ness have always been close, almost like sisters. Anthony waits patiently behind both women, and then Ness eagerly introduces him. Anthony is as pleasant and well-mannered as he's been for the past twenty-four hours. Darn Spawn.

"My goodness, Ness, he _is_ a handsome one!" Nessie giggles while Anthony stands there blushing.

And I try not to roll my eyes.

"Mrs. Laurent," Anthony says, "the house smells delicious."

Heeding Alice's advice, I smile at him. "Since my Nutella Scones didn't seem to tempt either of you yesterday, I've spent the morning coming up with something new." I wave a hand over the display on the counter. "Introducing _No_ _Whoopie Under My Roof Pies_."

" _No Whoopie Under My Roof Pies_?" Nessie asks.

" _No Whoopie Pies_ ," I confirm.

She smirks. "Clever, Mom, clever – but not very subtle."

We all sit around the kitchen counter talking while Anthony and Ness eat their pies and milk.

Much like Alice earlier, Anthony moans through a mouthful of pie. "Mrs. Laurent, I can honestly say I've never tasted anything as delicious in all my twenty-two years."

"Anthony," Alice says, "the way to Bella's heart is definitely through compliments on her baking."

I roll my eyes, but now I'm smiling wide. Yes, yes; I'm a sucker for compliments to my baking.

"These are unbelievable, Mrs. Laurent," he says, his green eyes all honest. "Kind of makes me regret not tasting the scones yesterday."

"Well, I can't promise you I'll make them again before the summer is over," I say. _Too bad, Spawn_.

"Mom makes a different recipe every day, Anthony," Nessie explains. "She plans the day's recipe weeks in advance, and it's rare she'll repeat one in the space of six months."

"So it's something different every day?" he asks.

"Yes."

"That's why Swan Bellies are so popular," Alice grins. "You miss one day's creation, there's no guarantee you'll ever see it again."

"That's a genius business plan, Mrs. Laurent. Have you ever thought of expanding beyond New York City?"

I shrug. "I've been giving it some thought lately, but it would take effort. What's more, expanding beyond New York City would mean ceding some measure of control and input."

"And we all know how much Mom _hates_ ceding control," Nessie says dryly. She breaks off a piece of her pie and sticks it gingerly into her mouth.

I glare at her. "I just don't know if the business is ready for that."

"Well, it's definitely something you need to seriously start considering," Alice says.

Throughout the entire exchange, Spawn pays careful attention. "Mrs. Laurent, as someone who's been around the business world for a few years, thanks to my dad, I find your entire marketing strategy innovative. And as someone who plans on working in the importing, exporting, and distribution business," he grins, "I'm already thinking of all the ways we could distribute your pastries around L.A. I bet if you ever decided to expand to that market, my dad would love to help."

Little fuckward. Had me right to the very end.

"We'll see."

"Of course, it's perfect the way it is right now," he adds as if he's just realized his faux-pas.

Nessie swoops in to save him from the Wicked Witch of Kips Bay. "Mom, Anthony and I are going to check out a couple of places this morning. I know we talked about my helping out with the business, but can we postpone that until Anthony finds a place and starts his internship?"

"Unless you need her assistance, Mrs. Laurent. Your needs definitely take precedence."

Boy, Spawn is all accommodation now.

Before I can open my mouth to respond, Alice signals me over the top of their head, waving her hands and scowling in warning.

"No, that's fine. You guys go ahead and apartment hunt. _That_ takes precedence."

OOOOOOOOOO

The truth is, I don't _need_ Nessie's help. We've got an excellent staff that keeps everything running smoothly. Jay and his marketing agency handle the business side of Swan Bellies – with my input, of course. I'm the creative brainstormer of new recipes, new stores, and possibly new taglines since _someone_ last night mentioned the current one might be sort of ridiculous.

Swan Bellies keeps me busy and focused.

The morning passes. In the early afternoon while I'm experimenting with lemon cupcakes glazed with an orange-honey drizzle, my cell phone beeps.

 **Hey, Mom. Just wanted to let you know that the apartments Anthony and I checked didn't pan out. You wouldn't believe the kind of garbage in this city that's going for over three thou a month!**

 **Too bad. When does his internship begin?**

 **Monday Morning.**

 **Gives him a few days to find something.**

 **You said he could stay until he finds a place, Mom.**

I draw in a deep breath before replying.

 **Yes, of course he can.**

For the next few minutes, my gaze rests outside of the windows. Blurs of yellow cabs intersect below. The vague sound of an airplane flying overhead fills my ears. I close my eyes and see myself on that airplane. I feel the pain. I hear myself cry out for him.

When my private line rings, I frown as I hit the green button because it's not a number I recognize.

"Hello?" There are about three seconds of silence, then I repeat the greeting in one of those impatient, sing-song tones. " _Hello_?"

A man clears his throat. "Hey...Bella."

My heart drops to my feet. "Edward?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it's me."

Another few seconds of silence follow before I manage to find my voice. "How did you get this number?"

His chuckle sounds shaky. "It wasn't easy."

Yet more silence ensues. "Look, Bella, first I want to apologize if my sudden appearance last night made you uncomfortable. I was as shocked to see you as you probably were to see me."

"That's fine, Edward. I'm a big girl now."

Dead air again.

"I thought you'd be on a plane back to California."

"No. My morning meeting ended early, and I rescheduled this afternoon's meeting for tomorrow morning. I was wondering…I was hoping you were free for dinner tonight." When I don't respond right away, he rushes into an amended invitation. "Or drinks if you have plans."

"Edward, I'm not sure either of those would be a good idea."

His anxious breaths fill the phone line. "Just coffee, then. Just a quick cup of coffee. Look, I know I acted stupid last night, and I know you don't owe me anything. But there are things I've spent twenty-five years wanting to say to you, and I've got no right to ask you to hear me out…"

I sigh into the receiver. "Where are you?"

"Midtown, near Bryant Park?"

I almost laugh at how uncertain he sounds of his location. Darn out-of-towners.

"There's a café nearby in the Garment District, on thirty-sixth between seventh and eighth. If you're near Bryant, you'll have to walk down a few streets and up a couple of avenues. Or if you're worried about getting lost, you can take a cab-"

His chuckles cut me off. "I can walk it, Bella. I'm not from this city, but I can find my way."

I swallow. "Okay. I'll meet you there in…" – I look down at my watch – "a half hour."

"Sounds great."

"See you then."

"See you then, Bella."

OOOOOOOOOO

I wait a few minutes before catching a cab. Usually, I like arriving for a meeting at least fifteen minutes early, but in this case, punctuality seems more than sufficient.

On the cab ride over, I text Nessie.

 **Hi, honey. What are we doing for dinner?**

 **Hi, Mom. Edward just texted Anthony to see if we could meet him for dinner. He's heading back to Cali in the morning, and he wants to see Anthony before he leaves. But if you'd rather I not go, I can make some excuse.**

I close my eyes and bite the inside of my mouth while Alice's advice circles in my head. _Don't push her away.._. _don't force her to choose._ My fingers hover over the keyboard, itching to tell my baby girl to come home to me.

 **No, you go and have fun. I'll see you guys later tonight, then. Love you.**

 **See you later, Mommy. Love you too.**

I close my eyes against the threatening tears and fling the cell into my bag.

OOOOOOOOOO

Despite my efforts, I'm five minutes early. Darn New York traffic would pick this afternoon to be non-existent. As I pay the cabbie and exit the cab, I look through the storefront window and spot Edward right away.

He's sitting at a small table at the far corner of the small café, and he spots me almost at the same moment that I spot him. When he stands, I've got to admit to myself that he looks fucking amazing – and in a suit, no less. More than one pair of eyes are on him. For a split second, I find myself wishing I would've changed out of my yoga pants and tee shirt. Then again, I work hard to respect myself in said yoga pants and tee shirt.

As I open the café's door and walk in, I watch him swallow and rake a hand through his hair – a familiar gesture that makes my chest tighten.

"Bella." He smiles when I reach him, and unlike last evening, he reaches for my hand and pulls me toward him, his warm lips on my cheek. My heart thumps against my ribcage like it's trying to slam its way out.

On the outside, I keep my cool.

"Edward." I pull away and take a seat after he pulls out my chair. "Have you ordered?"

"No, I was waiting for you."

"Oh, okay. Shall we?" I make to get up, and he lays a warm hand over mine, halting me.

"Why don't you wait here, and I'll order? Do you know what you'd like? Do you recommend anything?"

If I didn't know better, I'd think he was nervous.

I turn my head and focus on the menu that's hung on the wall, trying to regulate my breathing because his hand is still on mine. "The Australian Latte is pretty good – if you're into lattes." As soon as I bring my eyes back to him, I regret it. The green in them, it's as breathtaking as ever. I've got to admit, Spawn hit the jackpot when he inherited those eyes. "I don't remember if you were much of a coffee drinker."

"Not back then, no, but I drink coffee now," he replies with a smile. "Australian Latte sounds fine." He squeezes my hand. "Two?"

"Sure. I'll have one."

When he removes his hand from atop mine, the imprint of his heat is left behind, and I discreetly let go of the breath I'd been holding.

When he moves to the line, I check out his profile on the sly.

The years have been good to Edward – physically, at least. They've given him a maturity, a confident stance that even the cocky boy of my youth lacked. He's always been tall, but he stands more erect now, his shoulders broader. His hands are in his pockets, which pulls the back of his suit jacket over his ass. It was always a nice ass. His nose and jaw are straight and angular, and his lips…he's got great lips for a man. His hair has darkened a bit, more brown with reddish highlights than the lighter shade it used to be. There's a slight bit of gray at his temple – just enough to make him look…distinguished.

I find myself wondering if Anthony's hair will darken as he grows older.

Edward arrives at the front of the line, and I watch him place our order.

"Hi. Two Australian Latte's, please, and let me get two of those _No Whoopie Under My Roof Pies_?" He glances back my way with a questioning look.

My face burns.

He grins and turns back to the server. "That'll be it, thanks."

"Yes, sir," the girl says. "These just arrived this morning. You're going to love them. One of the best Swan Bellies' pastries yet!"

"Thanks. I'm sure they are."

I hear the smile in his voice, and I can't help smiling to myself. Like I said, sucker here for baking compliments.

While I await his return, I take a few breaths. They say there's a little girl inside us all, and the girl inside me is beginning to feel about seventeen-years-old. I've got to remind her of her true age here.

A minute later, he returns to the table carrying a tray with two lattes and two _No Whoopie Pies_.

"I brought you a couple of sugars and a couple of Splendas. I wasn't sure how you took it."

He places a mug in front of me, and the fact that neither of us knows the other's coffee preference strikes me as...sad.

"No sugar for me, thanks," I say as I swirl the wooden stick around my mug.

"Yeah, I don't take sugar, either," he clarifies.

For the next couple of minutes, we busy ourselves with swirling our coffee around and blowing away the hot steam. One of us needs to grow a pair before the silence suffocates us.

Edward draws in a deep breath before lifting his gaze to me. "So tell me how you got into baking, Bella. I don't recall it being something which interested you when we were younger."

Inwardly, I snort because no way am I telling him that story.

Outwardly, I smile. "It wasn't; not then. I went to college in Paris and majored in International Business."

"That, I knew." He takes a sip of his coffee, and a sharp sound hisses through his teeth as if he's burned himself. "That was the last piece of news I ever heard of you."

"I know. I remember," I say, recalling the scene with perfect clarity. Then I mentally shake it off. "Anyway, while there, I became fond of French pastries. Freshmen ten and all that," I snort. "I shared a small apartment with a couple of other American girls, and one day…I decided to try my hand at baking. Turned out, I was good at it. It also turned out that the effort I spent on baking was enough so that I wasn't the one eating."

"So the freshmen ten disappeared," he grins.

"Yes," I laugh. "Anyway, for a long while, it was just a hobby. I worked with Sam, my husband, at an American marketing agency's Parisian office, but after Nessie was born, I switched to part-time. When she started school, I picked up the hobby again, baking for birthdays, holidays, and for other special occasions. Pretty soon, everyone began turning to me when they had parties or social functions they needed pastries for, and an unofficial catering business ensued. It was all on the side, though, just for fun until…"

I guide my mug to my mouth, narrowing my lips as I sip carefully.

"Until…?" he prompts.

Sighing, I set the mug down again. "When Sam got sick, I quit work, and I quit baking so that I could take care of him, accompany him to his appointments and such. After he passed, and Nessie readied herself for college, I figured I might as well start my own catering business - officially, this time, to keep busy. That's how Swan Bellies – baked fresh for your belly – was born. Although, as you've made clear," I grin, "you're not crazy about that tagline."

He laughs and puts up his hands, palms out. "Hey, don't listen to me; I'm not an expert at advertising or marketing. My expertise is importing and exporting."

"So Anthony says."

"I still can't believe…my son and your daughter. It's kind of mind-boggling."

"It's a small world after all."

"You always were a big Disney fan." He smiles sheepishly. "When I saw you last night at the restaurant, it left me speechless – which is ridiculous," he snorts, "considering the fact that there's always been so much I've wanted to say to you. Plus, it felt like everyone's eyes were on us."

"Everyone's eyes _were_ on us," I smirk.

He holds my gaze and reaches over the table, wrapping a hand over mine once again. "Bella, I was truly sorry to hear about your husband."

The thing is, both his words _and_ his gesture of comfort do sound and feel heartfelt.

"Thanks," I say quietly.

After a few seconds, when withdraws his hand, a small part of me misses the warmth.

"Where did you meet?"

"His sister was one of my college roommates. He'd graduated a few years earlier and had received a great offer right in Paris. So after we married, we stayed for a few years. When Nessie was born, we asked the company to relocate us back to the U.S."

He nods. "How long were you married?

"Almost eighteen years. We married straight out of college; Ness was born shortly after. Back then, kids got married coming out of college and had babies while in their twenties. Nowadays, it seems people wait longer."

He's engrossed and methodic with swirling the stick around his coffee.

"I married in my junior year of college. I was twenty-one when Anthony was born."

"Wow," I say. "You guys didn't even wait to graduate. That's love."

He meets my eyes again. "Bella-"

"Everything happens for a reason, Edward."

"Yeah. Yeah, it does. I wouldn't trade my son for anything in the world."

"And I wouldn't trade my daughter."

"It doesn't mean I don't owe you an apology – a huge one – for how things went down."

I take another sip and smile down at my mug. "It's not necessary, Edward. It was a quarter of a century ago. Like Jay said last night – a lifetime ago."

Edward snorts, a scowl spreading across his handsome face. "I think your family friend had his own agenda last night."

"He's protective of us, yes," I agree with a humorless chuckle. "He was one of my husband's best friends, and I think the way you were acting just made him nervous."

"The way _I_ was acting?"

"Your Casanova lines," I clarify.

"My lines?" he says.

I set down my mug. "Look, I know you; I know how you operate, but he doesn't. With Sam gone, Jay feels it falls to him to watch over Nessie and me."

His shoulders tense. He rolls them back, features morphing into wariness while he sets down his mug. "Has Anthony stepped out of line in some way? Has he done or said anything to Nessie that concerns you? Do you need me to speak to him?" There's a hard edge to his voice.

"No, no. He's been…a perfect gentleman. I just mean that while I'm old enough to take care of myself, my daughter is still quite young."

"Anthony is young too, but they're both smart individuals."

"Yes, they are. But we agree that they're _young_."

He frowns. "What exactly are we agreeing?"

"I just don't want Ness to lose focus. She's only nineteen, and she's just completed her first year of college. Your son is set to finish soon. They're at different stages, and both you and I know how views can change at their ages."

He rubs the back of his neck. "From what Anthony has told me, and from what I saw last night, my impression is that they know what they want. I don't consider their relationship casual, and I know for a fact Anthony doesn't consider it to be."

"He's only twenty-two, Edward. As we agreed last night, they think they know it all at that age."

"Didn't you just say you married straight out of college? You would've been about twenty-two."

"Not everyone has the maturity level for commitment at that age, which is why I think it's great that people tend to wait longer nowadays. I don't see why my daughter and your son should rush into a commitment at this point. Lord only knows what's waiting for either of them around the corner."

"Bella, at Anthony's age, I was married and had a one-year-old kid. I worked full-time, and I attended college part-time. Yeah, I was a stupid, immature asshole the last time you saw me, but when it came time to grow up, I grew up."

"And then you divorced a few years later."

His jaw tightens. "That shouldn't reflect on my son."

"Edward, you're misunderstanding me. You're your son's advocate, and that's fine. But by the same token, I want to make sure this relationship doesn't leave my daughter floundering and with a broken heart."

He jerks back. "What makes you think my son would do that to your daughter?"

The words just spill out. "Because they learn by example."

His green eyes sear through me, nostrils flaring, as I sit there doing my best to control my breathing, my racing heart, and denying myself the urge to hurl.

Eyes on me, he pulls out his wallet and withdraws a couple of bills, stiffly settling them between us.

"Bella, for years, I've wanted to apologize to you for what I did. I'm so sorry. Yes, I was a stupid asshole, and I made an idiotic decision based on immature reasoning. You've got every right to hate me-"

"I don't hate you, Edward."

"-but don't judge my son based on my mistakes. It was good catching up with you. Take care."

"You too."

He stands and buttons his suit jacket before stalking past me.

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Oh shit. Should I don my body armor?**

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **See you all on Wednesday. :)**


	8. Ch 8 Be My Guest for the Whole Summer

**A/N: Have I mentioned how much I love reading your thoughts? Especially after last chapter. There were so many varied opinions. I loved it!**

 **Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes (though I tinker through to the very end; therefore, all remaining mistakes are mine).**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 8 – Be My Guest for the Whole Summer Berries**

 **Edward**

 ** _August 1990_**

 _"So why even apply if you have no intention of going?"_

 _Bella sat cross-legged on my bedroom floor, flipping through CDs and singing along with the blasting stereo. Her head bobbed up and down to the beat - long, wild hair swaying with the music._

 _Meanwhile, I lay on my bed and waited for her answer while bouncing a handball back and forth against the white ceiling. The ball was leaving streaks which would probably piss off my dad if he saw them, but fuck it, I'd be gone from here in a week anyway._

 _"Bella!" I said louder when she still hadn't answered._

 _"Edward, my mom's been bugging me about applying to the American University of Paris since I was like nine years old. She applied when she was young and didn't get accepted, and it's been like her dream or something for me to go ever since."_

 _With that, she resumed her singing and head bobbing._

 _Meanwhile, I swallowed back the heavy lump that had suddenly lodged itself in my throat._

 _"I probably won't get in anyway," she threw out as an afterthought, the way you'd throw a dog a bone._

 _I kept my eyes trained to the ceiling. "Bella, with your damn brains, you'll be at the top of the acceptance list."_

 _"They look at more than just academics, Edward. I don't even speak French."_

 _With each successive throw, the ball in my hand smacked the ceiling harder._

 _"So, the acceptance committee will ignore your straight A's, your extra-curricular activities, the fact that you've been president of the honor's club for two years, and the great fucking essay you'll probably write, and turn you down because you don't speak French. And you waited 'til two days before your move to Phoenix to spring this on me."_

 _The slight weight of her body made the bed dip. I felt her slowly crawling up my torso, her bare legs slinking in between mine. When she hovered over me, her long hair cascaded around us like a curtain. She sank on top of me and rested her plump, soft breasts right on my chest. God, I remember how badly I wanted to wrap my hands and mouth around them, to suck on her sweet nipples, but a furious sense of indignation had taken ahold of my insides. Even as she looked down at me, smiling her sweet smile, I kept my angry gaze on the ceiling and flung that ball like I was trying out for the Mariners._

 _The next time it landed in my hands, Bella reached out and took it, dropping it to the floor with a dull thud._

 _"I'm not springing anything on you; I'm just mentioning something that won't even affect us in any way," she said._

 _"If you're so sure you're not going, then I don't see the point in you applying," I persisted, speaking through clenched teeth._

 _She sighed. "I just told you why I'm applying, and besides, I probably won't even get in," she insisted._

 _I wasn't completely stupid; part of me realized even then how I was being unreasonable and more than a bit selfish. Bella was the smartest person in school, and no, she wasn't a nerd. She was that rare form of high school girl who wasn't afraid to put her brains on full display. And she had looks and a great personality to boot. As a result, Bella Swan couldn't be classified into one of those typical high school cliques or categories, and those of us who could be classified were in more than a little awe of her._

 _That day back in March when she'd said "yes" to me after I'd asked her to the movies had left me both thrilled and secretly shocked. I hadn't actually expected her to go for it. I mean, yeah, I was aware I could more or less have the most popular girls in school, but most of them were like me: little substance, getting by on our looks. So I'd sat next to her in the darkened theater while_ _ **Pretty**_ _ **Woman**_ _played on the screen and thanked my lucky stars - doubling that thanks when I'd angled myself toward her, pushed my tongue into her mouth, and she'd eagerly responded._

 _"You'll get in," I reiterated._

 _She rolled her eyes and lifted herself up on her palms, resting them on my chest. "So what if I do? I_ _ **won't**_ _go. Bad enough they're making me move to Phoenix in a couple of days, leaving you here…in college."_

 _As she spoke, her mouth inched closer and closer to mine so that by the time she finished, she was breathing her words against my lips. She sucked the top one between hers, alternating between the bottom and again the top while waiting for me to respond. And as pissed off as I felt, as…terrified as I was, her warm body lying on top of mine, her lips on mine…I pushed my tongue into her mouth, making her groan._

 _I knew she was dreading both her move to Phoenix and my starting college, and while in the past I'd done my best to reassure her that it wouldn't affect us or what I felt for her, at that moment, the insecure and immature bastard inside me reared his ugly head and purposely played on her fears._

 _I licked her neck, whispering in her ear, "Yeah, I'll be here in college with all those college girls, and you'll be all the way in Phoenix still in high school. You sure you want to add more distance to that?"_

 _Bella pulled back, her dark eyes wild and furious._

 _I grinned._

 _"I fucking told you I'm not going!"_

 _Nostrils flaring, I pushed her mouth back down to mine and kissed her frenziedly. My hands moved down to her ass, squeezing it through her cut-offs._

 _And all the while I pictured her standing next to the Eiffel Tower._

 _So I held her tighter and pressed her against my growing hard-on. "Feel that? I want to be inside you so bad. Only you."_

 _"We can't," she breathed. "Your parents are right downstairs."_

 _"I don't give a fuck," I hissed, lifting her higher so that I could lick my way down her chest._

 _"Edward…" she moaned quietly, cradling my head between her hands while I pushed down the top of her tank top with my jaw and took one of her tits in my mouth._

 _"Edward, stop." When she pulled away, my indignation only multiplied. She simply chuckled and climbed off of me, adjusting her tank top and completely unaware of the fear that was already beginning to fester._

 _She returned to the floor and the CDs. "Not now. Wait 'til we're alone."_

 _I lifted myself up on an elbow. "When the fuck is that gonna be?" I asked. "Your parents are home packing, and God knows when this house will be empty. You're leaving in two days, and I'm starting college in a week. God forbid I want to have sex with my girl before we're parted for God knows how long."_

 _She ignored me, instead flipping around a CD case, studying it. "You know where I'd really like to go someday? New York - I'd love to see Sonic Youth playing. Hey, do you think I sound like Kim Gordon?_ _ **Kool Thing let me play it with your radio. Move me, turn me on, baby-o**_ _," she sang._

 _I threw myself back on the bed, chest heaving, and glared up at the ceiling like I wanted to demolish it with my eyeballs._

 _"Just go wherever the hell you want, Bella."_

 _She stopped singing. Though my eyes were trained to the ceiling, I could feel her dark gaze burning a hole through me._

 _"You know what, Edward? You're being more than a bit of a dick tonight." She stood up. "When you're ready to be nice," she said shakily, "pick up the phone, and maybe I'll consider coming back."_

 _When she moved to the door, I lunged from the bed and pressed her against the wall, crashing my mouth to hers. She responded immediately the way she always did, tangling her hands in my hair and fisting it hard._

 _"I love you, Bella," I said in between kisses. "I'm sorry," I breathed, pressing my mouth everywhere on her beautiful face. "I love you, and I'm sorry. Just promise me you won't go. Swear it."_

 _She pushed my head away and held my gaze, warm brown eyes soft and so…honest._

 _"I love you too, Edward. And I swear to you, I_ _ **won't**_ _go."_

OOOOOOOOOO

It's crazy, the info which the touch of a button or a few well-placed words into a search engine will get you nowadays.

The one and only time I searched for Bella was a couple of months after…the incident. That was 1991 though, the mere dawn of the Information Age when a search was something you conducted on your feet, and the web was something a spider made to catch its prey.

When I'd visited her late that winter before it all went to hell, she mentioned her acceptance to AUP in passing, with a laugh and a repeat of how there was no way she was going. Yet even as she laughed and joked, my insides tightened and churned. In the infinite wisdom we have in our teens, I knew better, and I already saw her in a beret and eating croissants.

Later on, with hindsight and with the wisdom that comes from real life experiences, I saw how I caused it all, how it was my actions which fulfilled my own prophecy. Bella Swan, the girl of my dreams, said she'd love me forever, and that spring, I did everything I could to change that.

Nevertheless, in the past couple of weeks, I've learned a hell of a lot about Isabella Laurent.

I've learned that her "Swan Bellies" business is, at the moment, one of the _New York Times_ top successful east coast small businesses. On top of being a great baker, she's a shrewd businesswoman. She's kept the business purposely small to retain control over most decisions. Any New York City restaurant or café which wants to carry her pastries must go through a rigorous approval process. Most get turned down. As a result, those which do get approved are ready to grovel at her feet. Demand is high, and supply is low – the basic recipe for success.

The baking takes place on the third floor of her Manhattan Townhouse in Kips Bay – which has been transformed into a kitchen run by a small, dedicated staff. Marketing is handled by the firm where her husband, Samuel Laurent, worked for over twenty years before he passed away at the way-too-young age of 45. The account is managed by an old _Family Friend_ , Jacob Black, aged 41, who started out in the firm as Sam's intern. Bella's sister-in-law, Alice Laurent, age 42, is her lawyer and closest friend. Distribution of Swan Bellies is sourced out by the marketing agency, which means Jacob Black is in charge of that as well.

With a long, deep sigh, I scrub the palms of my hands over my eyes. Reaching out blindly, I flip the laptop closed.

Outside of the conference room windows, palm trees sway in the breeze, and blue waters sparkle against the sun's rays while yachts and small boats sail along the lower Newport Bay. The sky is unmarred and cloudless as far as the eye can see.

 _They learn by example_.

Again, with hindsight, I can't blame her for saying that. A quarter of a century ago, I had a choice to make: commit to a complicated, long-distance relationship with a girl who I believed too good for me in the first place or destroy that relationship before she could tire of me.

 _They learn by example_.

It wasn't what it implied of me that made me want to choke her after she flung those words. God knows I deserved those and more. It was what it implied of my son. He's not who I was, and he shouldn't have to pay for my mistakes.

Yet here I am, two weeks later, sitting alone in a conference room and googling a small yet extremely successful bakery business on the opposite coast because seeing its owner after almost a quarter of a century has left me fucked in the head.

In my periphery, my cell phone lights up. When I reach for it, I see it's a text from Anthony.

 **Hey, Dad. Just wanted to let you know that I'll be staying with Nessie and her mom for the rest of the summer. Couldn't find a place, and N's mom said it was okay with her.**

My brows furrow. After my last conversation with Bella, I figured she would've had his bags packed and by the door the second his two weeks were up.

 **Are you sure that's a smart decision? You don't want to overstay your welcome.**

 **Mrs. Laurent offered.**

I exhale a long breath, scrubbing my jaw hard while trying to puzzle out what exactly is going on over there.

 **Be sure to thank her, and be helpful and courteous around there. Follow her rules. You're a guest in her house, make sure you act like one.**

I see the three dots indicating he's typing a response, and I quickly add,

 **And offer her payment - whatever she thinks is fair.**

 **Dad, I'm not ten. I know how to be a guest in someone's house. When I offered her payment, she got offended. Said she didn't need it. I don't want to piss her off.**

That makes me chuckle. **Yeah, probably not a good idea**.

 **Ed, I haven't forgotten you promised to fill in some gaps.**

Things have been so hectic that we haven't had much time to talk. What's more, I haven't told him of my coffee meeting with Bella before I left New York or about the fact that she seems to hate me, and unfortunately, by extension, distrust him. But then...why is she allowing him to remain under her roof for the summer?

 **Soon, Anthony. I promise.**

That won't be a fun convo, but if he's as serious about Nessie as he says he is (and unlike Bella, I don't doubt he is), it's something he has to know.

 **I'll hold you to it. Also, there's something I'd like to fill you in on.**

Oh fuck, that doesn't sound good. In my mind's eye, I see Ness with a swollen belly, and Bella knocking the shit out of my son.

 **Just don't tell me I'm going to be a grandfather.**

 **Lmao! No, not yet. Don't worry, it's all good. It can wait until I return to Cali.**

Don't fucking worry, he says. Kids don't understand; soon as they say they want to talk, it's time to worry.

 **All right. How's the internship going?**

 **It's great, Dad. I'm learning a lot.**

 **Good.** **We'll talk more about it later.** **Hey, have you spoken to your mother lately?**

 **No.**

Another snort. It's sad how rarely both ever think of the other. God knows I've tried.

 **Give her a call or text her when you get a chance.**

 **Will do. Gotta go. My lunch break is ending.**

 **Say hi to Ness.** My fingers hover over the keyboard…but then I leave it at that.

 **Will do.**

With a deep sigh, I set down the phone. A mixture of pride, wistfulness, and confusion is still rolling around inside me when Jasper walks in.

"Here you are. I was about to text you. I thought you'd gone home after the morning meeting."

"No," I say. "I decided to stick around for a while. What's up?"

He fills me in on a couple of things I missed while ruminating in here this morning. "Oh, and we got a call from _Integrado Software, Brazil_ ," he says, putting on a Spanish accent, "to coordinate for your trip next week."

I throw back my head and groan, glaring at the ceiling. "Damn it, the last thing I'm up for right now is a week in Brazil."

"Said no one ever," Jasper chuckles.

He takes a seat across from me at the table, sitting back and putting up his feet before resting his hands behind his head. "What's up, Ed? You've seemed distracted for the past couple of weeks…since you returned from New York actually. What is it? Having Anthony on the opposite coast got you nervous?"

"He's a grown man," I grin.

"Grown man or not, they still tend to need some looking after. Look at Mikey; he's about to be a dad, and I've still gotta bail him out of tough spots every once in a while!"

With a snort, I nod my head slowly. Jasper's son is a bit of a loser – though I'd never tell him that.

Because you _don't_ openly insult a man's kid.

Anyway, Jasper and I have been friends since I was married, right before Anthony was born. It was he who introduced me to the importing/exporting business. As a result, he knows almost all there is to know about the company, about Anthony, and about me. He's divorced as well – about fifteen years now, though both his kids, Jessica and Mike, are older than my son. He married young for more or less the same reason I got married, but his divorce from his ex was on much better terms. Maria's a good woman, and when she retained custody of the kids, Jasper was happy to take them on weekends, summers and holidays – something I could've never settled for. He's a handful of years older than I am, and at times, he enjoys offering advice to prove it.

"So what's going on with Tony? How's that internship going?"

"It's going great," I say. "He's enjoying it, says he's learning quite a bit."

Jasper nods. "Then what's the problem? Why so glum lately?"

"Well…"

He lifts a brow, waiting expectantly.

"You know the girl he's been dating?" I say.

"The one whose stuff I picked up along with his, yeah. What is it? She no good?"

"No, no! She's great." I scrub the back of my neck. "It turns out she's the daughter of the girl I dated senior year of high school and through most of my freshman year of college."

"Get the fuck out of here," he laughs. "Small world."

"Yeah. Yeah, it sure is."

Silence.

"Is she…married?"

"Widowed."

" _Ahh_. Now the story gets interesting."

I laugh at him, raking a hand through my hair. "Now it gets _complicated_. We broke up because I…because I cheated on her – with Tanya."

He drops his hands from behind his head and moves in closer to the table, furrowing his brow. "What? You've never told me about that."

I give him a shrug. "It's not exactly something I'm proud of."

"So what happened? Did you see her? Does she look good? Did she say something? What did you say to her?"

"Chill, man," I snort. "Yeah, I saw her, and she looks...amazing, but it was awkward, to say the least. I've always imagined bumping into her again, apologizing and…I don't know, starting over - a friendship, I mean, you know? She was…she was great when we were kids. Smart. Challenging."

"So how did it go down?"

"Not the way I would've liked," I smirk. "In my shock, I tripped a waiter, and he spilled a tray of drinks all over her."

Jasper bursts out laughing, and I chuckle along with him.

"Then this _friend_ of hers, who obviously wants to get into her pants, started pissing me the fuck off, so I acted like a bigger jerk and skipped the apology and the plea for friendship and went straight to the trying to get her back stage."

"Oh fuck, you didn't."

"Yup. I did."

"And was all this in front of Tony?"

"Oh yeah. _And_ her daughter."

"Oh shit," he chortles. "Then what happened?"

"Then the next day, I managed to convince her to have coffee with me, and she more or less told me she doesn't want my son with her daughter because _they_ – meaning Anthony – _learn by example_."

He hisses sharply through his teeth. "Ooh. _Burn_."

"Yup."

"And then?"

"And then…that was it. I finished my meetings and came home."

For a long while, we simply sit there.

"Oh, yeah, and Anthony is staying in her house for the summer."

Jasper throws back his head and howls with laughter, on and on, rocking back and forth in his chair.

"Man, that's gotta be the funniest fucking story I've heard all year!"

"Well, I'm glad I could amuse you."

He keeps laughing, I'm talking these stomach-hugging bouts while I sit there and wait for his mirth to subside. When he finally sobers, a few chuckles still seep through here and there.

"So that's why you've been brooding and sulking all over the place for the past couple of weeks?"

"I haven't been brooding or sulking. I've spent twenty-five years without her in my life, and now...now..." I exhale a heavy breath and fist my hair, "shit, now I can't seem to get her out of my head."

Jasper stands and walks around the table to clap my shoulder.

"All right, all right, my man. _I'll_ take the trip to Brazil. No, no!" He holds out a palm. "Don't try to talk me out of my sacrifice." Then he turns to the door. "And I'll speak to Jane and have her book _your_ flight to New York."

OOOOOOOOOO

 **Bella**

"I'm just saying, you could've brought me one."

"You told me not to."

"Bella, come on. We just worked out for an hour, and then you tell me today's creations were Swan Bellies _Just Go Ahead and Be My Guest for the Whole Summer Berry Tarts?_ You know I love berry tarts – especially in the summer when they're so nice and fresh."

Alice and I are having lunch inside Bloomingdales after our workout.

"Alice, you specifically told me _not_ to bring you today's creation because you're trying to cut down."

She glares at me, stuffing a cucumber into her mouth. "Since when do you listen to me? And then you decide to have lunch at a restaurant where I can't even buy one."

I roll my eyes. "Don't turn into one of those Swan Bellies snobs the _New York Times_ was talking about this morning, who refuse to eat anywhere where Swan Bellies aren't served."

Alice laughs. "You love it, and you know it."

"I do," I chuckle.

She grins, but then grimaces while holding a forkful of dried berries and parsley in front of her.

"So," she sticks the fork in her mouth and chews, "Anthony will be staying with you guys for the rest of the summer, huh?"

"I see Ness filled you in."

"Or maybe the name of today's creation?" she grins.

I take a bite of my own salad; though, it's much tastier than Alice's is with marinated grilled tofu, jicama, and Korean barbecue sauce.

"Well, he couldn't find anything decent, and the mom in me simply couldn't allow him to pay three grand a month for a studio all the way up in Yonkers."

"His father must be extremely grateful."

I swallow carefully before responding. "I have no idea nor do I care what Edward's level of gratitude is."

Alice reaches for her water bottle. I can feel her eyes on me as she drinks.

"Admit it: you were a little bit of a bitch to him during that coffee date..." she pinches two fingers together in front of her squinted blue eye, "just a little bit."

I angle myself towards her over the lunch counter. "I'll admit no such thing – and it wasn't a date. I simply told him what I thought of Ness and his son getting serious at such young ages. It's not my fault if he didn't want to hear it."

She quirks a brow. "Okay, you had every right to tell him that. But come on, had he implied something negative of Nessie, you would've gone all Mama Bear on his ass."

"Of course." I shrug and return to my salad, picking at the tofu bits. "But Nessie wasn't raised by cheaters."

"Ouch, Bella. _Ouch_. Retract those claws, girl."

"Fine, fine." I stuff some slaw into my mouth.

"Still, it was nice of you to allow his son to stay in your house. Does this mean you're warming up to him, Bella?" She flutters her eyelashes prettily. "Are you feeling sorry for a poor boy so far from home, overworked in a New York City internship where he's not earning a cent, and where they're probably sucking him dry?"

I roll my eyes. "His search for a place was stressing out Nessie and beginning to stress the hell out of me by association. It was also taking time away from time _I_ should be spending with my daughter this summer." Pulling an Alice, I stick some food in my mouth before my next confession. "Besides, I realized that if Anthony gets his own place, I won't be able to keep a close eye on them."

"Aha," she nods. "So it comes down to control."

"Look, they're attached at the hip – figuratively."

"Don't kid yourself, honey, most likely literally too," Alice snickers.

"I don't know why I spill my guts to you."

"Because I love you and you love me."

"They're just moving so fast. Can you blame me for wanting to keep an eye on my daughter? Sam would've never allowed this."

"Sammy trusted Nessie's judgment."

"Ouch. Now who's got the claws out?"

She sighs and sets down her fork. "Bella, they've been living with you for over two weeks now. Answer me a couple of things."

"Go ahead," I say warily.

"Does he treat her with love, respect, kindness, and consideration?"

"Yes," I say, side-eyeing her begrudgingly.

"Is he good to her?"

Through a deep breath, "Yes."

"Does he treat _you_ with respect and good manners?"

"Yes, Counselor, yes. Jeez." I roll my eyes. "Damn lawyers."

"Then isn't that what matters?" Her voice is low and soothing. "If it is just Nessie's first foray into love, aren't you glad at least it's with a good guy? If nothing else, it'll give her a platform from where to judge future relationships."

"Yeah," I sigh. "You're right, you're right."

"Bella, honey…" She rests a hand over mine, "I know this is hard for you, but you know it's not the boy's fault."

I set down my utensils. "I know it's not his fault, Alice. In my heart, I know it's not. It's just…hard to look at him without wondering…" I look away, my throat tightening painfully.

"I can imagine." When she pulls me into her, I allow my head to rest on her shoulder for a few seconds before straightening.

"And I _am_ worried about Nessie, Al, regardless of whose son she's dating. She's just so…in _love_."

Alice laughs. "Does she spend time with friends as well? Does she help you out with Swan Bellies? Does she take care of her day to day responsibilities? Is she still grooming herself?"

"Yes," I laugh, wiping away an errant tear.

"Then she'll be fine. Just try to…relax, Bella."

"I'm _trying_."

We're quiet for a while, and then Alice changes the subject. "So you're actually going to go through with tonight then?"

I sigh. "Jay is a good guy, Alice, and it's just a dinner."

"A good guy who didn't have the balls to go for it until he realized he might have some competition. A good guy who was supposed to be one of my brother's best friends; meanwhile, he was obviously lusting after his wife."

"I still don't think you're right about that. Sam would've seen it. _I_ would've seen it."

"What makes you so sure Sammy didn't see it? Maybe he just chose to ignore the little prick's crush because he knew it was nothing he needed to concern himself with. The guy was no competition for my brother. And you didn't see it because you weren't paying Jay any mind – which makes him an even sadder character if you ask me," she snickers.

"Look, either way, we're just having dinner. It doesn't mean _anything_."

"Does Jay know that's all it is?"

"Sam…Sam hasn't even been gone for two years. I don't know if I'm ready to jump into the dating pool yet – if ever."

Alice studies me for a few seconds before smiling and pushing back a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

"I think you're ready, Bella. I just don't think you're willing to admit who you want to jump into that pool with."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **See you guys Friday! :)**


	9. Chapter 9 - The Picture

**A/N: Happy Friday!**

 **Thank you, once again, for your wonderful thoughts! I've had such a hectic week, but reading your thoughts on this story has definitely helped to keep me going! Unfortunately, I haven't had much time for responding to reviews, but I'll try to get back to those of you who've asked questions (questions which can be answered, lol) this weekend.**

 **Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes (thought I tinker through to the very end, so all remaining mistakes are mine).**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 9 The Picture**

 _March 1991_

 _Edward held my hips tightly and sank into me all at once. The quiet stillness of the motel room made our cries sound louder as if they were reverberating off of_ _the chipped-paint walls. Although it had only been a few weeks since we'd last seen one another, it felt like years, like eons since we'd last been together this way._

 _We quickly found a rhythm for our lovemaking, and it felt so good that I pushed back the voice whispering in my head and saying that the reason it felt like so long was because things just hadn't been the same between Edward and me for…a while._

 _"God," Edward groaned in my ear. "Bella, God, you're so soft and warm."_

 _His words fell from his mouth in shaky, uneven breaths, and I wrapped my legs tighter around him, digging my heels into the back of his muscular thighs, inhaling his groans and exhaling my own pleasure._

 _Yes, things were fine between us. The distance I kept imagining was exactly that: my imagination, my childish anxiousness at being so far from him on a daily basis. But we were no longer kids, and I couldn't expect things to remain the same. He was in college, and in a few months, I'd be at UDub too. Then this distance would be nothing more than a memory._

 _Our mouths met, heavy breaths mingling while he pushed in deeper, and I pulled harder, meeting his thrusts while grinding my hips against his. The cheap motel bed creaked and protested under us like an accompaniment to our moans and whimpers. When Edward flipped us over, I rested my hands on his firm chest and rocked back and forth over him._

 _"Oh yes, Edward. Yes, Edward, yes."_

 _My hair fell like a curtain of privacy, cocooning us as Edward lifted up and kissed my mouth…my breasts…_

 _And I gave him everything I had in me to give._

 _Afterward, I rested my head on his chest while he absent-mindedly played with my hair._

 _"Oh hey, guess what? My friend Angie's sister is actually a designer with a cool little boutique down on Jefferson Street-"_

 _"I have no idea where Jefferson Street is," Edward said._

 _"It's a place downtown. Anyway, Angie says her sister doesn't design any of those girly girl dresses - more like hip, sleek outfits."_

 _"Hm."_

 _Despite the fact that we'd finished making love about fifteen minutes ago, my heart was still racing._

 _"What I'll do is I'll take pictures of a few dresses and mail them to you, and then you can help me pick one for prom in May."_

 _"Sure. Whatever. Hey, did you tell that school in Paris you're not going yet?"_

 _"Not yet. I'll let 'em know soon."_

 _"What are you waiting for?"_

 _"I want to minimize the bullshit I'll have to hear from my mom for turning it down," I chuckled. "The longer I wait, the closer I'll be to getting out of here and not having to deal with her bitching at me."_

 _He was quiet, lost in thought as he'd been more and more since he'd started college. I looked up at him._

 _"You sure you want to sacrifice all that for a guy, Bella? You sure I'm worth it?" he grinned crookedly._

 _"I'm not sacrificing anything. I simply don't want to go over there, Edward. That was my mom's dream, not mine."_

 _He nodded, dipping his mouth to meet mine in a chaste kiss. When he pulled back, his expression was unreadable._ _Then he carefully extracted himself from under me._

 _"I gotta pee."_

 _I watched him walk to the bathroom, and I still remember thinking how beautiful he was from every angle: his back lean and toned, his ass muscular and firm._

 _With a sigh, I sat up on top of the rumpled bed and leaned against the headboard. Reaching for the remote, I accidentally knocked over Edward's backpack, which had been thrown haphazardly over the nightstand. The backpack took the lamp with it before landing on the floor with a loud thud._

 _"Shit," I hissed, looking down at the mess of textbooks, wallet, condoms, the lamp, and a couple of other odds and ends. When I reached down to pick it all up, a picture slipped out from one of the heavy textbooks._

 _Meanwhile, in the bathroom, the toilet flushed, the faucet ran, and then Edward walked out of the bathroom._

 _He found me with his textbooks lying on top of my bare legs and the picture in my hands._

 _"When was this?"_

 _Edward slid into the bed, folding his arms behind his head and staring at the TV. His naked body lay on top of the disheveled blankets, his dick already semi-erect. And although he hadn't even glanced at the picture, he seemed to know exactly what I was referring to._

 _"At a Soundgarden concert last month."_

 _I nodded slowly, swallowing the thickness in my throat and doing my best to keep my breathing steady through a wildly pounding heart._

 _"Who are they?"_

 _"My roommate, Emmett, and a couple of other friends."_

 _"What are their names?"_

 _"James and Tanya."_

 _"Tanya - is that the girl who took the phone from you to say hi to me the last time I called you?"_

 _"Yeah."_

 _"Oh."_

 _I stared at the picture, fighting to keep at bay the childish fit I was aching to throw. Edward was in college now, and he was bound to have beautiful, female friends. They were bound to go places together. Just because I was over here was no reason for him to sit in his dorm room and do nothing. I mean, I hung out with friends too. Granted, we didn't go to fucking concerts I knew he would've killed to go to._

 _And so what if this "Tanya" was the most gorgeous creature I'd ever laid eyes on? So what if when I'd spoken to her I'd gotten this...vibe, like her laughs and chuckles for me were all forced and meant for someone else. So what if his arm was thrown around her carelessly? The other guy, James, also had his arm around her._

 _Calmly, I set the textbooks and the picture on the nightstand, and then turning to my side – away from Edward – I lay back on the bed._

 _"I'm tired. Think I'll take a nap before it's time for you to take me home."_

 _"All right."_

 _For a long while, I lay there, resting my stinging gaze on the windows and refusing to allow them to stray to the picture taunting me from the nightstand. Instead, I looked out on sunny Phoenix and refused to allow one single tear to fall over things which weren't really happening._

 _Then I felt him lean over, his warm breath on my neck, and I closed my eyes, pretending to sleep._

 _"Bella…" he breathed, pushing back my hair._

 _I didn't answer._

 _His mouth ghosted over my bare shoulder, yet still I kept my eyes closed. "Bella…I love you so much."_

OOOOOOOOOO

The memory sifts through my mind as I sit at a midtown restaurant with Jay. Shaking it off, I return my attention to the here and now.

"You're right, Jay. It is a stupid proposal. And did you see where they wanted to place the pastries?"

"Yes," Jay replies from across the dimly lit table. He chuckles as he rests his hand over mine. "I completely agree, Bell."

"Good, then we can just skip the rest of that one." I remove my hand from under his because I need them both to feed myself.

"Sounds like a great idea." He smiles from ear to ear, his dark eyes sparkling in the low light as he sips his wine. "You and I…we're always in sync about these things - even when you worked in the office. Do you remember?"

"Yes," I say, swallowing the steak in my mouth. "I do remember."

I must admit, Jay looks like he's gone through a bit of trouble for tonight. His suit is obviously new, a light color which makes his dark skin and eyes stand out handsomely. He has good hair for a guy, full and combed back perfectly.

As he goes on and on about our old office relationship and about how much he's always admired my drive and my work ethic, I can't help but admit to myself that Alice was most likely correct. And as he reminisces some more, I wonder to myself what I should do with this information. Despite Alice's claim that he's a creep, Jay has always been respectful; he has never gotten out of line. Sam would've put him through a wall otherwise, and honestly, I would've been thoroughly disgusted. I don't take likely to any hint of cheating, not since…well, not since.

Again, I push Edward out of my mind.

Then I find myself wondering what Sam would've thought of this dinner tonight? Would he consider this a real date - a betrayal on Jay's part…on mine?

"Bella?"

I blink myself out of my musings. "I'm sorry, Jay. What did you say?"

He repeats what he was saying about another proposal from a new restaurant close to Rockefeller Center.

"We only have one restaurant carrying Swan Bellies in the area, right? Anthony works at 30 Rock, and he's told me more than once how long the lines get there. He's actually suggested it might be a good idea to offer them in another nearby restaurant so that our followers don't get too frustrated with long lines and insufficient product."

Jay snorts. "I mean, yes, we can look into it, but we're not taking business strategy advice from a college kid now, are we?"

"If it's good advice, we will."

Jay lifts both brows. "Okay."

As the dinner continues, I make some further admissions to myself:

Like the fact that the Spawn – I mean Anthony – is a hard worker and quite responsible for a young man his age. He's up bright and early every morning, sometimes even earlier than Nessie, offering to help even though I've told him we have it all under control. So naturally, before he leaves, I hand him one of the morning's creations because, well, come on, I can't exactly let the boy leave without eating something, can I? In return, he's always grateful and complimentary. He cleans up after himself, asks me if I'm sure I don't need anything before he leaves, and generally does nothing about which I can complain.

Darn Spawn.

He looks…so much like his father, possibly even more handsome than Edward was when I knew him.

Then again, Tanya was beautiful. It's only natural they would spawn something incredible together.

Shit, my mind has turned to Edward again for the too-manyeth time in the past couple of weeks. I recall how…pissed off he was when he stormed off from the coffee shop. And…fine, okay…I suppose I do feel some modicum of regret for my possibly-harsh words about his Spawn.

"Bella?"

"Damn it. Sorry, Jay," I say, shaking my head and laying a hand against my brain. "What were you saying again?"

He smiles as if he understand me. "Worried about Ness?"

"Always just a little bit," I smile.

He takes another sip of his wine. "How is the kid working out? He hasn't gotten out of line, has he? You let me know if I need to have a talk with him. I promised Sam I'd watch over you and Nessie."

 _Sam, when you're gone, I promise I'll watch over Nessie – and while I'm at it, I'll wine, dine, and sixty-nine your wife._

I choke on my steak.

Jay quickly stands up, leaning over the table to pat my back.

"Shit, Bell, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I say hoarsely, picking up my water and downing it. "I'm fine."

Yet even as I'm choking, I think to myself that if there ever was a problem with the Spawn, I wouldn't go to Jay for help.

I'd go straight to his father.

OOOOOOOOOO

We take a cab back to the townhouse, and as the cab pulls up to the curb, my mind races. Jay wants me, that's become pretty obvious. The question is what the hell do I want?

Oh, I'm horny, no doubt about that. Give me a break; I haven't had sex in over two years - since shortly after Sam got sick. So will an invite up for coffee, drinks, or tea mean coffee, drinks, or tea...or is it code for something else?

Do I _want_ something else?

Again, Edward pops into my head.

Since that day at the coffee shop, when I picture him in my mind, he's less often the Edward of my youth - tall yet slightly lanky with a smooth, unlined face and copper hair. More often, he's still tall but also broad-shouldered with the well-groomed beginnings of a beard and some lines around his eyes and forehead which do nothing to detract from how handsome he still is even with dark hair that's slightly gray at the temples.

Sometimes…his mouth is on mine with his green eyes so alive…still so young and vibrant after all this time.

The cab is idling, and the cabbie has turned around and announced the fare. Jay pulls out his wallet, but when he looks at me expectantly, I know it's not for my share of the fare.

"Jay, do you want to come up for a drink? But I truly do just mean a drink." I chuckle to take away any possible sting; nevertheless, I want to be clear.

He chuckles in return, and I'm relieved. "Sure. I'd love to come up for a drink."

Nessie and Anthony were going out with some friends, so the house is empty. Jay follows me up to the second story where we do most of our living in this house. There's a balcony off of the kitchen, which overlooks Second Avenue. Since it's a warm, mid-June evening, I lead us there.

"Would you like wine or coffee?" I ask as we pass the kitchen.

"Wine would be great."

"Okay. Why don't you wait on the balcony?"

"Sure," he grins.

I open up the wine fridge and pull out a bottle of white wine, pouring two glassfuls. When I meet Jay out on the balcony, he's gazing out at the city with its bright lights and constant, soothing noise.

He grins yet again and thanks me as he takes his glass, watching me over the rim as he sips.

"I had a great evening, Bella."

"I did too, Jay. Thanks for inviting me. You're a good friend."

He swallows, chuckling as he shakes his head. "Bella, the truth is…I wish we could…move beyond friendship."

My heart races, and I set down my glass on the side table before I spill it. "Jay, up until this evening, I honestly hadn't even realized you felt this way."

He sets down his glass as well, wrapping his hands around my arms.

"Bella, you're a gorgeous, intelligent, and amazing woman. How could I not want you?"

"You're one of Sam's best friends," I choke.

"Which is what makes it perfect," he insists. "What man out there knows you better than I do, Bella? What man out there knows how you like to be treated? How to care for you the way Sam used to?"

Sounds like he obtained his information through subversive, clandestine channels.

"Jay, I…it just doesn't feel right."

His face falls, disappointment etched in his features for a few seconds before he appears to recover himself.

He smiles, and when he speaks, his voice is both low and tender. "Of course. Of course, I understand. It's too soon. Sammy's been gone for less than two years. I don't want to rush you, Bella. That's why I've held back. A woman like you can't be rushed."

When he moves in and skims his nose up and down the side of my face, I freeze the way Leo did in that movie right before the bear attacked.

Then again, that tactic didn't work too well for Leo, did it?

"Jay…" I slowly push him away.

The doorbell rings, and right at that second, I could sing _The Hallelujah Chorus_ to the heavens.

Jacob pulls back.

"Who could that be?" I wonder way too gleefully. "I'll be right back."

"Sure, sure," he says.

Ness and the Spawn both have keys, and I'm not expecting anyone as I take the steps down, but whoever it is, he or she has my undying gratitude. I may even name tomorrow's Swan Bellies after him or her.

The doorbell rings again.

"Coming!" I call out to the helpful yet impatient interloper.

When I look through the peephole, a low oath escapes me because of course, it's him. I drop my head and rest it against the door, cursing my luck. He rings the doorbell once again, and I jump.

My hand shakes as I open the door.

Edward has his index finger up, ready to ring yet again.

"Edward?"

He looks somewhat startled to see me even though I'm sure he's not just walking around NYC ringing random doorbells. He must've had some clue of who exactly he'd find behind Door Number One. His ensuing smile is tinged with more than a bit of discomfort. He looks tired as well: his black polo slightly wrinkled, circles ringing his green eyes, and his jeans riding low on his hips.

Although…that last one has nothing to do with being tired, does it?

And none of it detracts from how handsome he still friggin looks.

"Hey, Bella." He fists his hair, which, like the hair raking of two weeks ago, is yet another throwback to the early '90s. "Uh, look, I'm sorry to intrude, but I was wondering if Anthony is home?"

I shake my head vehemently because apparently a regular head shake just won't do. "No. No, he's not. He's out with Ness."

Edward sucks his teeth in obvious frustration. "I've been calling him…All right, can you please just let him know I'm in town and ask him to give me a call when he gets back?"

I nod mutely.

"All right, thanks, Bella. Uhm, take care." He turns around, and I raise my hand and wave it as if I'm in fifth grade.

"Oh! You know what happened?"

Now, it might be my imagination, but I'm honestly not sure whether Edward turns back to me when he hears my voice, or if he was already swinging around before I even spoke.

"He lost his phone last night while he and Ness were at the movies; it fell out of his pocket or something. He let the theater know, and they left Nessie's number just in case it was found. I checked with them this afternoon, but I don't think it's going to turn up."

Throughout my convoluted speech, Edward's head bobs up and down as wildly as I shook mine a few moments ago. "Ah, okay, I see. Well, if you could just let him know I'm in town and let him borrow a phone to give me a call, I'd appreciate it."

The hesitancy I'm reading as he takes a step back might also be just part of my overactive imagination.

"If you'd like, you can come in, and I can text Nessie right now and let them know you're here."

He raises his brows as if he's surprised by the fact that I possess manners. "If it's not an imposition."

"No, of course not." I make way for him. "Come in."

"Thanks," he grins softly.

When he walks by me, an undeniable thrill runs up my spine, and the air in the narrow strip of space he leaves between us makes my skin tingle. I draw in a deep breath and shut the door, turning around and finding his gaze on me.

We simply stare at one another for a few seconds. He's the first to look away, digging his hands into his pockets and sweeping his eyes around the house.

"It's a great house, Bella."

"Thanks. It's been in Sam's family since the turn of the century."

He nods and jerks his angular jaw toward the spiral staircase leading to the second story. "That must've been fun when Nessie was a little girl."

I get it instantly – the way only another fellow parent would get it.

"Oh my God," I laugh, remembering Ness in pigtails, running up and down the different levels. "It was a nightmare. She fell down half a flight once, when she was about three, and I thought I was going to pass out."

"And I bet she was just fine," he smirks knowingly.

"Yup. She cried for two minutes, got up, and started running up and down the stairs all over again."

Edward chuckles. "Kids. Anthony grew up in a one-level, but we had an in-ground pool that was a damn nightmare when he was young."

"That would've given me premature grays," I chuckle.

"I think it did," he snorts, raking a hand through his gorgeously full, dark hair.

"They suit you."

I can't even believe those words just sputtered out of my mouth.

From the roundness of his green eyes, neither can he.

"Bella-"

"Edward, I haven't-"

"Bell?"

It takes me a couple of seconds to figure out who the hell is calling my name from inside the house.

"Oh shit. Jay," I hiss as both Edward's and my eyes return to the staircase where Jay appears two seconds later. When he spots Edward, a set of deep creases mar his forehead.

I clear my throat. "Jay, you remember Anthony's dad, Edward. Edward, you remember my friend, Jay."

At first, Edward's face is an impassive mask. Then he grins and reaches out a hand.

"Family Friend, yeah. How's it going?"

Jay appears to hesitate for a heartbeat before meeting his hand. "Kid's Dad. It's going good, thanks."

Oh boy.

"Let me get my phone, and I'll text Ness."

"All right, thanks, Bella."

While I run upstairs where I left my bag, I hear bits and pieces of their conversation.

"In town _again_?"

"Yeah."

"Business?"

"Some, yeah."

"You're in importing and exporting, right?"

I miss the rest as I run into the kitchen for my bag, snatch out the cell phone, and run back to the staircase.

"You can market and advertise it all you want," I hear Edward saying, "but without the right distributor, it's not going anywhere."

"Yeah, but no one's going to want it if it doesn't get marketed. What are you going to distribute, empty boxes?"

I'm texting as I run down the stairs. What I mean to write is: **Hi, Ness. Let Anthony know that his dad is in town. He'd like him to get in touch asap.**

What I actually write is: **He beds me let Anthony know. His dad is in town. He'd like to touch me asswipe.**

"What the...?" Groaning, I dig my thumb into the little back arrow like I'm on Speed and delete, delete, delete. Then I almost trip down the last steps.

"You okay, Bella?" Edward hastily moves in closer.

I run and stand between both men. "Yes, yes," I pant. "I'm fine." Then I compose my text all over again. Before hitting send, I look up at Edward.

"Edward, it's nothing serious, right?"

He smiles at me. "No. Nothing too serious. Just some business to attend to."

"Okay, good," I smile back, and add the words, **'Nothing serious'** making sure that's _exactly_ what it says before hitting ' _Send_.'

"I just wanted to reassure them before they got worried."

"Good thinking," he agrees.

We hold one another's gaze, yet miraculously, my cell phone vibrates almost instantly. When I look down, Nessie is calling.

"Jeez!" I laugh and hold up my phone so that Edward can see what I find so humorous. "That was quick! Why don't I ever get such a fast turn-around when _I'm_ looking for my daughter?"

"That's unusual for my son as well," he laughs while I answer the call.

"Hi, Mrs. Laurent. How are you?"

I keep my eyes on Edward. "Hey, Anthony. I'm good. Listen, your dad's here."

"So I read. Again, huh? Interesting. May I please speak with him?"

"Sure. Hold on. No luck with the phone?" I ask before handing over the cell to Edward.

"No, ma'am. I left them Nessie's number and the house number just in case, but Ness suggests I just kiss it goodbye."

"Yeah, I agree," I snort. "This is, unfortunately, one of the cons of living in New York."

"I'll run to the carrier during my lunch break tomorrow to get a new one."

"Sounds like a plan. Hold on, here's your dad." My hand brushes Edward's as I hand him the phone, and it's insane how many memories that one touch engenders.

The entire time, Edward's eyes are on me.

"Yeah." He chuckles into the phone. "No, I'm not checking up on you." He turns around and breaks our connection, and I draw in a deep breath, unsure if I'm relieved or…

When I turn around, Jay is watching me.

"Oh! Jay, I'm so sorry," I mouth sheepishly. "These are the type of emergencies kids always cause."

"It's not your fault," he whispers, walking slowly towards me. He takes one of my hands, linking our pinkies together. "The kid should learn to be more responsible with his phone."

"It happens to all of us at one point," I say with a shrug. Then using my obsession with my watch as an excuse, I pull away my pinkie to look at the time. "Listen, Jay, I hate to throw you out, but I've got to be up at four making the donuts."

"You're making donuts for tomorrow's Swan Bellies?"

"No," I snort. "It's from that commercial." At his blank look, "From the eighties? Come on now, you know what I'm talking about. _'Time to make the donuts'_ ," I say in a tired old man's voice.

" _I_ _ **made**_ _the donuts_ ," Edward answers in the same exhausted monotone.

He's finished his call with Anthony, and as he walks over and hands me back my phone, we both burst into laughter.

Meanwhile, Jay's forehead is beginning to resemble a heating grill from all the lines running across it.

"Come on, Jay, you're not that much younger than I am, and you're in advertising and marketing. You should know this," I tease.

"Dunkin Donuts," he says dryly.

"Yes!" I throw a fist in the air, but apparently, it's a one-woman party because both men just stare at me. "I suppose I'm dating myself."

"Not at all, honey." Jay moves in and kisses my cheek. "I guess my mind just isn't on commercials tonight. I'll call you tomorrow?"

"Sure." I nod.

He turns to Edward. "Edward, where are you staying?"

"At the Marriott Marquis in Times Square?" He says it that way again: that out-of-towner way we New Yorkers admittedly taunt.

"I _know_ where the Marquis is," Jay snickers. "I don't live too far from there. We can share a cab." He makes to grab Edward's arm to helpfully lead him out, but the dark glare Edward shoots him has Jay retracting that hand quick-fast.

"Thanks," Edward says, "but I'm going to hang around outside and wait for my son. I've got to give him something."

"All right," Jay says. But he doesn't look all right. He doesn't look all right _at all_. "Well, it was good to see you again, Edward."

"Yeah, you too, Jacob."

"Take care, Bella." As I walk him to the door, he glances backward to where Edward is still standing, looking like he wants to snatch that _see you later_ right back, lunge over the couch, put his feet up on the coffee table, and chill.

"You too, Jay." I open the door for him, and with a long, frustrated sigh, he walks out.

After Jay leaves, my hand rests on the door handle for a few seconds before I swallow and turn back around.

When I do, Edward's eyes are on me.

It's not discomfort charging the air around us as we watch one another, more like…a current of suspense. From the very beginning, we knew what we were doing. How many times did we fight as kids? I'd storm out on him, he'd storm out on me only to return to one another a few hours later. That was how we operated: fight, take a few hours, return, get it out, then stumble to a couch, a bed, a corner, and kiss and make love while promising to never fight again.

But we're adults now. Yet the ghost of that youthful anticipation has time-traveled forward almost a quarter of a century. His ageless eyes watching me are bewildering, encouraging that expectancy our teenaged fights used to always bring on. Half of the time, we used to fight just for the make up session that inevitably followed.

I can't help but wonder if, on some level, that's exactly what we were doing two weeks ago.

A/N: Thoughts?

Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.

Twitter: PattyRosa817

Have a great weekend, guys! See you Monday!


	10. Chapter 10 - Full Disclosure

**A/N: Thanks so much for your thoughts! I'm in the process of getting back to you guys, so don't think I've forgotten you!**

 **Betad by the wonderful Michelle Renker Rhodes. (Though I tinker through to the very end, so all remaining mistakes are mine).**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 10 – Full Disclosure**

 **Bella**

 _May 1991_

" _Why didn't you tell me he called?" I asked my mother at the same time that I shoved a couple of pairs of jeans into my duffel bag._

" _I did, Bella," she insisted. "I went to the stairs and yelled up for you, but when you didn't answer I figured you were busy. And he's coming for your prom in two days anyway, isn't he?"_

" _I wasn't busy, Mom. I was listening to music, and…I guess I fell asleep." I muttered, walking to my dresser and pulling open my underwear drawer._

" _Well, I told him you were probably involved in last minute graduation stuff or paperwork for AUP-_

" _Mom." With an exasperated huff, I turned away from the dresser and faced my mother. "Mom, we've gone over this. I'm not going to AUP."_

 _My mother's shoulders deflated. "Bella, it's such a wonderful opportunity."_

" _An opportunity I never wanted. I applied to make you happy, and now you have the honor of knowing a Higginbotham woman who was accepted. But I'm not going." With that, I returned to scrummaging through my drawers._

" _What are you going to do, Bella? Give everything up for that boy?"_

" _This decision has nothing to do with him. I've told you that."_

" _It has everything to do with him." She took another couple of steps further into my room. "At least admit that much, Bella."_

 _I swung back around to her. "Mom," I spoke slowly, "I am not. Going. To Paris. Even if I wanted," I snorted, "I couldn't go to Paris now."_

" _What does that mean?" she frowned, her voice laced in frustration. Then she looked behind me at all the open drawers. "Bella, what in the world are you doing?"_

" _I'm…" I cleared my throat and walked over to the bed to pick up my bag, swinging it over my shoulder. "I'm going to Seattle, actually. I'll be back in a couple of days."_

" _Bella, your prom is in a couple of days! Is he going to be the cause of you missing that as well?"_

 _I zipped up my bag. "Mom, I'm…I have to go. I'll explain everything when I return. I promise." With a deep breath, I faced my bewildered mom once more and kissed her cheek. I remember the sad smile she gave me before she cradled my face in her hands._

" _Oh, baby. You're so young. A beautiful future might be waiting for you in Paris."_

 _I tried to smile in return. "We'll talk when I'm back from Seattle."_

OOOOOOOOOO

At some point, Edward appears to have inched closer, or maybe I've moved closer to him. Either way, I retreat a couple of steps because I'm not ready for such proximity. But then my back hits the door. My hands are jittery - full of nervous energy. I fold them behind me to use as back support.

"Bella-"

"Edward-"

We both speak at once. Edward smiles somewhat self-consciously as he gestures for me to go first, and I'm feeling self-righteous enough to do so - also, there may or may not be something that's been weighing on me.

"Edward, I think the…surprise from seeing one another again after so long, especially after how we left things all those years ago, well, it got us off on the wrong foot. I apologize if at the café a couple of weeks ago, I used our past to judge and criticize your son. As a parent, I know had it been the other way around, I would've flipped-"

Despite his having allowed me to go first, now he puts up a hand to halt me.

"As you said, it was my actions all those years ago which caused you to react that way. What's more, I'm sure the way I behaved at the restaurant the other night didn't help matters."

"Well…" I grin.

He chuckles ruefully, then with a head shake and a deep sigh, he sobers. "Bella, my apologies for that and for so much more are way more necessary…and overdue than any apology you may think you owe me."

I swallow hard and drop my gaze. "You've already apologized, and besides, as I said the other day, that was all a quarter of a century ago."

He takes a step closer, and though his voice drops, his words are full of urgency - as if he absolutely needs to get them out before they burn like acid in his throat.

"The length of time that's transpired doesn't stop it from being one of the stupidest things I've ever done - one of my biggest mistakes, if not the biggest. And the things I said to you afterward…the things I failed to say…Bella, I should've never let you walk away."

I close my eyes and exhale deeply through narrowed lips. It's been twenty-five years. I'm forty-two years old, not seventeen. We've lived a lifetime apart. I loved after he was just…a memory. His words shouldn't affect me this way. _He_ shouldn't affect me.

But he does. He so very much does.

With a trembling voice, I try to chuckle away the building tension, to fall back on my defense mechanisms and remain in control.

"Edward, after what I saw, you wouldn't have been able to stop me."

He flinches, pinching his eyes shut. When he reopens them, the vibrant green of his irises are dimmed by the dark shade of remorse.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, his heavy breaths expanding his chest, "so sorry, and…and I need you to know that even as you were walking away from me that day, I knew I was letting go of the best thing that would ever happen to me."

"Stop, Edward." The words fall between us like a plea. "Please…just stop. There's no point in this. Besides, that's not exactly true. Had things happened differently, you wouldn't have Anthony, and I wouldn't have Vanessa."

He concedes with a stiff nod. "And that right there is the only reason why I can't say I regret everything."

"And _that_ , I do understand." Despite everything, I offer him a wistful smile. "With the hindsight provided by the passage of time, I understand being unable to regret our actions – even if, at the time, it was extremely painful." More like excruciating, but I won't tell him that.

"Jesus." He flinches yet again. "Knowing I hurt you, it's haunted me. And I'd always hoped you'd gotten past it much quicker than I did."

"Yes, well. I met Sam."

He swallows, nodding. "Yes, you did." His eyes search mine as he takes another step closer - so close now that I can see every shade in his eyes shift with his emotions. "Bella, I understand why you're ready to attribute my shortcomings to my son and even why you'd worry for your daughter."

"I won't deny that I worry for her, Edward. I'm the only parent she has left to keep her safe."

The next step he takes closes all the distance left between us.

I realize now that I've been holding my breath, that my body has been coiled tight in anticipation of having him so close that his breath mingles with mine. Yet I learned long ago what a betrayer your own body can be. I've learned why it's necessary to stay in control.

So when he reaches for my hand, I step sideways and leave his fingers hanging stiffly in the air. My deflection, however, only lasts a moment because he sidesteps right along with me.

"Stop."

"No," he breathes. "No, Bella." When he weaves our fingers together, I'm seventeen years old again, and I love it and hate it all at once.

He exhales, pressing his lips together.

"All right." He squeezes my hand. "Let's handle this one matter at a time. Bella, I swear to you, Anthony is a different man from the stupid kid I was. From the very beginning, I've raised him differently so that he wouldn't make the same mistakes I made. I don't want him to look back and wish…well…"

I'm drowning here, losing my breath, losing focus, and losing control to the desperation in his eyes, to the urgency in his voice. I'm being swept away to a distant, far-away land I haven't visited in two and a half decades.

"I appreciate that you've taught him to be a good man. I do see it. You should be proud of him."

The acknowledgment seems to lift some of the misery off of his shoulders. "I am proud of him."

"But it doesn't change the fact that they _are_ both young, and I worry that they're moving too fast."

"Bella, he would _never_ do to Nessie anything close to what I did."

"Maybe he wouldn't do that, but what one or both of them wants now may not be what one or both of them want later, and that does concern me."

Deep creases mar his forehead. "We have to trust that they know what they're doing, Bella, that we've brought them up to act responsibly. We _can't_ control them beyond that."

I pull out my hand from his and walk away because if I don't, I'll either kiss him or slap him. Pumped with adrenaline, I swiftly make my way up the stairs to the second level. He follows, just as I fully expected he would. The walls on the way up are covered in frames detailing the life I've led over the past two decades: wedding pictures, Sam at my side at the birth of our daughter, birthdays, anniversaries. As we make our way up the stairs, I wonder if he's looking at them, and if he is, I wonder what he thinks of them.

His footfalls continue to follow close behind as I make my way to the kitchen.

"This is great up here too."

"Thank you."

Wordlessly, I reach up and pull two wine goblets from the cabinet. Serving us both, I slide his goblet across the kitchen island to him. The entire time, I feel his gaze on me; although, he's remained on the other side of the counter. I'm not sure if it's because he needs the space or because he senses I do.

"He was good to you."

"He was great to me."

"I'm glad," he nods vehemently. "You deserved it, Bella. You deserved the best of everything."

We sip our wine silently for a while.

"Three levels, right?" he asks.

"Yes. Upstairs is the-"

"The kitchen for your Swan Bellies' business."

What the heck? Has his Spawn been giving him my blueprints?

I quirk a brow in question.

"Google," he chuckles. Then with a deep breath, "I wish it would've been around earlier."

"For what?" I snort. "It wouldn't have done any good."

"Probably not."

He holds my gaze. His wine is almost untouched.

"Back to the subject at hand. I'm not trying to control them, Edward. I'd simply like to guide them, to be there to offer them…advice, so they don't repeat the same mistakes..."

By the set of his jaw, the tightening of his gaze, I can tell that he doesn't completely agree; although, he's struggling not to contradict me – not outright, not yet.

He sighs and sets down his goblet. "Bella, I've spent the past twenty-two years guiding my son so that he doesn't repeat my same mistakes. Can we agree that as far as the kids are concerned, advice is as much as we can offer? Beyond that, we have to allow them to live their lives."

My lips press together into a straight line, and as I pick and choose my words, Edward rounds the kitchen counter so fast that when I step back, all I manage to do is back myself against the cabinets. He takes advantage of my momentary confusion with the schematics of my own kitchen to close the distance between us.

I'm bewildered at having him this close, so close that my nose almost skims his chest as I strain my neck to look up at him - so bewildered I don't even protest. _Or perhaps_ , a little voice inside me whispers, _that's just an excuse_.

A quarter of a century ago, this would've been the part of our disagreement where we'd crash together, his mouth on mine, his hands gripping my waist, my hands sliding through his hair. Trust me, it's a struggle not to give in to the temptation of having his mouth so close that his warm breath tickles my neck, to resist this…pull which is practically magnetizing us. My hands are in white-knuckled fists at my sides. Meanwhile, his hands move upward to rest on the counter on either side of me, caging me in.

"What do you want from me, Edward?" I hiss.

"I want full disclosure, Bella," he says carefully and clearly, leaning in even closer, green eyes blazing, "from here on in. I'll start. I didn't come back to New York just to speak to Anthony."

"What did you come back for then?"

"For you, Bella," he whispers vehemently. "I came back for you."

My breath leaves me in a whoosh. Swallowing, he lifts a hand and cradles my face, and the heat that seeps into me through his touch is both familiar and indescribable.

"I came back to see if there's any chance that you and I-"

With an angry snort, I push him away, stalking toward the balcony where I can breathe in some fresh air: barbecuing meat mixing with car exhausts, humidity, concrete… _anything_ but him. My hands wrap tightly around the railing, holding myself up because my legs are shaking so badly I don't trust them at the moment to do the job. When I feel him behind me, his exhalations on my spine, a shiver runs through me.

"Damn it, I can't _think_ when you're this close."

He snorts. "That makes two of us, Bella."

I gaze out at a city humming with nervous energy – the lights that never dim, endlessly honking horns and sirens, the constantly ebbing flow of traffic below.

"Edward…you've been out of my life for over two decades. I got married. I _loved_ someone else. So did you."

"Bella-"

"We've both moved on. We've had kids. We've led separate lives." I shake my head. "We don't know each other anymore."

The skin on my bare shoulders prickles in familiar warning a couple of seconds before his hands curve around them. His thumbs massage the back of my neck while I fight the almost overwhelming urge to push back and mold myself against his chest.

"Your skin is still so soft," he breathes.

"Edward…"

"Bella, we'll get to know each other again. We'll learn who we've become. Just give me another chance to be the man I should've been for you."

His lips ghost across the nape of my neck like the soft hum of butterfly wings. For one long moment, my eyes flutter closed.

Then they pop open. "You cheated on me."

The words cut through the evening like a sharp knife. In the ensuing silence, even the city stills as the words hang between us like mist in the air, heavy and thick. I expel a humorless chuckle. "My last memories of you don't exactly give me the warm and fuzzies."

Edward carefully turns me around, his green eyes dark and intense, swimming in remorse. "I was a stupid kid, Bella. A fool. An asshole who…Bella, I thought you were going to leave me; I thought you were going to break my heart when you realized I was nothing more than a fucking anchor weighing you down, keeping you from all you'd worked so hard for."

"What are you even talking about?"

He clarifies with one word. "Paris."

"Paris? I told you I wasn't going! And all you did those last few months was act as if that was exactly what you wanted me to do!"

"And you went."

" _After_ what happened, yes, I fucking went! What was there for me to hang around for?"

"I…" He cuts himself off, raking a hand through his hair. The balcony railing presses against my back and legs, the warm summer breeze trailing like fingers up and down my bare skin. I shiver in the night air.

He returns his hands to my shoulders.

"Bella, any explanation I have to offer will be both lacking and late, but may I _try_ to put into words what my admittedly immature brain was thinking?"

I cross my arms against my chest as a way to create some distance between us. "Go ahead," I shrug. "Not that it's necessary at this point."

He draws in a deep breath, gazing out at the city before returning his eyes to me. "When I went to visit you in Phoenix that winter, and you told me you'd been accepted to school in Paris-"

"- _and_ told you that I wasn't going, yes," I say in a _get on with it_ tone.

"-I panicked." He exhales, his warm, wine-infused breath washing over me. "Bella, I always thought you were too good for me to begin with, and I knew…I knew Paris was where you deserved to be."

My brows climb high into my forehead. "Please don't tell me this is going to be your excuse: that you cheated on me because you figured I was leaving for Paris anyway? Honestly, if that's where you're going with this, it's more than a bit ludicrous and immature."

His face inches closer. "Ludicrous and immature is exactly what I was back then, Bella. If you're expecting a better excuse, I don't have one. I mean, is there a good excuse for what I did?"

I smirk. "Continue."

He exhales through narrowed lips as if this is in any way as difficult for him to say as it is for me to hear. "Despite your assurances, I was sure you had every intention of going to Paris. And yes, I saw what a great opportunity it was for you, but I also saw…how I'd be left behind."

"Left behind?"

"Like I said," he shrugs miserably, "I was immature. In my desperation, I went to my dad for advice, and in his opinion, you'd be a fool not to go. He also added that while you'd be off living your life, I'd be left here holding my tail, whipped by a girl thousands of miles away, who'd most likely forget me as soon as the first French boy winked her way."

"Wait a minute," I lay a hand on his chest to stop him because he's talking so fast that my befuddled mind can barely keep up. "Your dad actually said those things?"

"I'm paraphrasing, but yes, almost word for word."

"I don't…" I fist my hair impatiently. "I don't understand."

Edward shakes his head. "I never told you, Bella, but while I was with you, my dad thought I was stupid to commit to a relationship - to commit to one person while so young…much like you seem to think of Nessie."

My nostrils flare. This time, when I push him away, it's definitely because I want to slap him. The heated blood in my veins has morphed into a raging river of lava. Stalking back into the house, I leave a trail of fury in the words I hurl behind me.

"That's nice to know about your dad – such a fountain of overflowing wisdom." I reach for my empty wine glass and refill it to the rim. Edward watches me while I drink, and after only a few sips, he takes the glass out of my hand and sets it on the counter next to his.

"I need you to keep a clear head."

I glare at him. "Is your mom aware of your father's enlightened views on fidelity?" I make no attempt to disguise the sarcasm or the disgust in my tone. "And don't you dare compare the advice I give my daughter to the _fucked up_ advice your father gave you. I'd never advise Nessie to cheat. Is that the sort of advice _you_ give your son?" Those last words erupt with more than a little bitterness.

His eyes flash with his own brand of indignation. He dips his eyes to my level. "Listen to me. I never have and never will give my son my father's brand of shitty advice. My parents had their own issues, Bella, which is something else I never shared with you. And I'm not suggesting _you'd_ give Nessie any advice of the sort either. I'm simply telling you what my dad told me. I'm trying to give you a taste of what things were really like for me back then. But you _did_ just say that you believe your daughter too young to commit. Yet even in the short amount of time that I've known Nessie, she strikes me as pretty mature and together."

"She's like her _father_ that way – mature from the very beginning."

He reels back just a fraction, eyes widening slightly at the jab. "I'm glad to know that. I'm glad you found a good man, Bella. Like I said, you deserved that. You deserved that and more. Although, you were pretty mature as well, which always intimidated me. So I suppose Nessie inherited her maturity from you both."

And just like that, he's completely shut me up.

"Bella, I'm not blaming my father for what I did to you. My mistake was mine alone, and believe me, I paid for it."

"So what now?" I snort. "I suppose the payment was what, your divorce? I'm sorry you ended up divorced, Edward; I really am," I say shakily. "I would've never wished that for you or for your son." (Tanya is another matter completely, but now's not the time to get into that). "But it was a bit more complicated than that. When you came to visit me that March, and I asked you about Tanya, you told me she was just a friend. Even then, you were already lying. Your explanation doesn't necessarily negate the entire mess, does it?"

This time, when he reaches for me, he wraps his hand around the nape of my neck. "No, it doesn't negate it, Bella. And she was just a friend at the time; I swear that. Look, I know there's a huge mess to unravel, and I'll give you all the answers you want and need from beginning to end. But you asked me what I want. Do you know what I want? I want you to understand that the man before you isn't the man from back then. I want you to learn to separate him…from me."

I'm losing ground here.

"You're contradicting yourself, Edward. You're telling me that you were too young and immature back then, but then you tell me that Anthony and Nessie _aren't_ too young."

He pulls me closer, and God help me, I allow it. My chest rests against his, both heaving against each other. I have to strain my neck to look up at him.

"I'm not saying that, Bella. Yes, they're young, but they're _not_ you and me. I'm asking you to see their relationship separately from the relationship _we_ had back then."

He holds me locked in his gaze, and though rationally, I know I shouldn't judge Nessie and Anthony's relationship based on what Edward and I once had; irrationally, I can't seem to separate it.

Drawing in a deep breath, I place my hands on his chest, meaning to push him away yet again, but his free hand grips both of mine, holding them locked against his chest.

"This wouldn't work, Edward," I murmur. " _Your_ son is dating _my_ daughter. One relationship is bound to affect the other. Their problems would influence us, and our issues, both those from the past and those from the present, would impact them."

He drops his head so that his eyes are level with mine. "Bella, I've been thinking about a way to handle this since the moment I saw you again in that restaurant. Believe me, this isn't something I just came up with on the plane ride over here. I'm not a nineteen-year-old kid anymore. I'm a forty-four-year-old man, Bella. I fucked up once, but I _don't_ cheat, and I _don't_ play games, and I'm already one hundred percent committed to you in a way I didn't know how to be back then. Whatever problems arise, Bella, I'm here for you."

I breathe out through narrowed lips, trying to regulate my erratic heart. It's obvious he's put quite a bit of thought into this, but the truth is…so have I. I've been thinking about him almost non-stop since his son stepped off of that airplane. And yes, at this point, Nessie must be told certain things.

The question is, how much?

"Tell me you don't feel this, Bella. Tell me you don't feel this connection between us. It's _still_ there, Bella. You know it is."

"I…"

I can't even deny that it is. It's palpable, crackling in the air between us. "I'm not sure I'm ready for this, Edward. When I pictured myself dating again, I imagined something simple, someone who wouldn't complicate my life."

He lifts a brow. "Someone like your _Family Friend_?"

I swallow, locked in his gaze.

He shakes his head. "First things first. I want to be honest with my son. He knows how I used to be when I was younger. My life has been…a cautionary tale," he grins ruefully, "but I haven't told him exactly how badly I messed up with you. I think it's something he deserves to know. It's something they both deserve to know. Then everything will be out in the open - full disclosure, Bella, one less complication. And we work through everything else _together_ ," he pleads.

I hang my head as it swims because _Full Disclosure?_ _Everything else?_ He has no idea what he's asking for.

Edward takes my chin between his fingers and guides my gaze back to his. He murmurs close to my mouth, his words thick with emotion. "We deserve a chance too, Bella. There _has_ to be a reason why we were brought together again after so many years."

It's strange. The scones – those burned, charred lumps oozing blackened Nutella like blood seeping from a broken heart – pop into my head. I can't help wondering whether they truly were mystical pastries foretelling things to come.

"It may just be a cosmic fluke or the universe playing with us, nothing more than that," I smile sadly. "After all, actually starting over after so many years…if you knew me, you'd know that's not part of my belief system, Edward. When you fuck up a batch, you fuck up a batch."

His brow furrows, obviously thrown by my metaphor. But then something flashes in his eyes - a look of defiance, of single-minded determination, and he shakes his head. Unlike with Jay earlier, when the rough stubble of his jaw skims up and down my face, my body springs to life, and it _is_ excitement – most definitely, without a doubt, one hundred percent jumpy, on edge, aroused, keyed-up excitement.

The problem is, I just don't know if _we're_ possible at this point.

Yet Edward seems ready enough to defy those burned scones for the both of us.

"The problem is you're seeing it wrong. It's not starting over, Bella." He whispers in my ear. "If you fuck up the batch, you pull out all the ingredients that worked the first time…get rid of the ones that didn't…add in the ones you've picked up along the way, and you begin again."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **See you guys on Wednesday!**


	11. Chapter 11 - Out of Control Truffles

**A/N: Lots of different opinions after the last chapter, which is great. Makes us all think and ponder.**

 **Betaed by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes. (Though I tinker through to the very end, so all remaining mistakes are mine).**

 **Most characters belong to** **S**. **Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 11 – Out of Control Chocolate Truffles**

 **Edward**

 _May 1991_

" _Edward, she's busy. She's got graduation coming up, prom, paperwork to fill out for AUP-"_

" _AUP?"_

" _Yes, AUP. College, remember? It's a great opportunity for her, Edward…"_

" _Edward, she's busy. She's got graduation coming up, prom, paperwork to fill out for AUP-"_

"… _paperwork to fill out for AUP…"_

"… _AUP…"_

"… _it's a great opportunity for her…"_

 _I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to drown out the words, tried to let the music blasting in the background eclipse everything in my head, push it all to the bottom of the river in which I was drowning._

" _So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye?_

 _So you think you can love me and leave me to die?"_

 _I howled the roaring lyrics at the top of my lungs, bobbing my head furiously to the frenzied rhythm as I sat on the floor of my dorm room, half-dressed and leaning against my bed. After that early afternoon's revelation, I hadn't bothered to change out of my sweatpants or to throw on a shirt._

" _Ed, you fucker, turn that shit down already! I'm trying to study for finals, and you've been blasting the same fucking song for hours!"_

 _Ignoring James' yelling and banging against the wall separating our rooms, I howled on and on._

" _Oh baby, can't do this to me, baby!_

 _Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here!"_

 _I played my air guitar along with the song, dug deep into my newly-acquired musical talents and failed to register her presence until she took a seat on the floor next to me, bumping my shoulder with hers._

" _Want some company?"_

" _Nope." Again, I shut my eyes and lost myself in the music. I didn't open them back up until the CD abruptly came to a stop. She was walking back toward me, and I let my head fall back against the side of the bed, taking a drag from the rolled up self-medication between my fingers._

 _James' gratitude for the end of the musical accompaniment to my misery seeped through the walls. "Thank fucking hell!"_

 _I sang the rest of the lyrics a capella._

" _Nothing really matters._

 _Anyone can see._

 _Nothing really matters…"_

" _Since when do you do **that**?" she asked, sitting at my side again and jerking her chin toward the item between my fingers._

" _Since I found out what a fucking asshole I am. Since nothing really matters," I chuckled, quoting the song._

" _Uh oh," she chuckled along with me. "Trouble in Bella-land?"_

 _Another drag. Keeping my eyes on the ceiling, I inhaled deeply._

" _She lied to me. She fucking lied. She kept telling me she wasn't going to Paris when all along…" I snorted._

" _Paris, huh?" She angled herself sideways, resting a palm on my chest before tangling her hand with mine. It remained there for a couple of seconds. Then she took away my tightly rolled up piece of heaven._

 _Out of the corner of one eye, I watched her take a hit. "Paris sounds like fun."_

" _Yeah, I'm sure it will be," I grinned._

" _Well, Ed, seriously, what did you expect?" she laughed. "It's not every day a girl gets a chance to go to Paris."_

" _No, I suppose it isn't," I agreed through clenched teeth. "It's a great fucking opportunity is what it is, isn't it?" I laughed. With the distraction of the music gone, the room spun, and my mind floated somewhere between the ceiling and my actual head. It almost felt as if I was on a cloud: peaceful and so damn...mellow._

" _It's a great opportunity…" I murmured, "a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity - better than wasting time with an asshole like me."_

 _I had no idea how much time had transpired when Tanya spoke again. "So what are you going to do?"_

 _Her voice was smooth and soothing, at once near and far, words barely filtering through the thick haze which took away all sound and sensation. Shit, was I in outer space? The touch of her hand on my shoulder was light as a feather, almost non-existent._

 _"You're just gonna sit here all night blasting the boom box, smoking that stuff, and crying about her like she's the only girl in the world?"_

 _When I side-eyed her, she took another long drag, smiling at me through the now minuscule blunt in her mouth._

" _Give me back that shit." I tried pulling it away from her, but she raised it high over her head, keeping it out of reach while giggling._

" _Stop playing games, Tanya, and give me the fucking…" I put one hand on her shoulder to steady her squirming and lifted the other to the hand she had in the air. When she tangled her fingers with mine and threw herself back, I landed on top of her. All the while, she kept giggling, and I started laughing with her._

" _That's the thing, Edward. I'm the one_ _ **not**_ _playing games here."_

 _It was wrong. I knew it was wrong even as I let her pull me in and mold her body to mine, but my lips and my limbs felt thick, heavy, and numb. Every part of me felt numb. And as I pulled away to tell her it was wrong, I caught her wide-eyed gaze resting on something just beyond…on something by the door…_

 _OOOOOOOOOO_

"Oh, Jesus," Anthony groans, fisting his hair. "Oh, hell."

I swallow hard before exhaling a long and heavy breath. No, I haven't told it to him in the detail in which, with a clear head, it plays in my memory, but I've told him enough so that he gets the gist.

"And that was… _Mom_?"

"Yeah," I nod stiffly, "but I'm not telling you this for you to judge her. _I'm_ the one who owed Bella loyalty there, and-"

"Yeah. Yeah, Dad, I know. This isn't about Mom."

Although I'm the father here, I try my best not to squirm under my son's intense scrutiny. It's a goddamn low point in my life: having to confess such a shameful embarrassment to my own son, especially when I've spent his entire life teaching him to do the exact opposite of everything that happened in that room. Even more embarrassing is confessing that the woman I cheated on is his girlfriend's mother, and the woman with whom I did the cheating is his own mother.

But like I've said, Anthony and I talk, and we're overdue for this one.

He rakes a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "Well, Dad, I can't say I saw that one coming. I mean, yeah, it was obvious _something_ went down, but I didn't imagine _that_."

It's the day after my return to New York - the day after I more or less got Bella to agree to…something. Whatever it is we're pursuing has to start with coming clean with the kids – which is why I'm at a coffee shop in midtown with Anthony during his thirty-minute lunch break. The thing is, whether or not Bella and I pursue a relationship, her daughter and my son _are_ in a relationship, and they deserve to know how our past may or may not affect them.

"I guess that explains things a bit," he muses.

"What do you mean?"

His wandering gaze pans back to me, and he sticks a fry in his mouth.

"Do you know that Mrs. Laurent is up at four in the morning, five days a week, to bake those _Swan Bellies_ right along with her staff?"

Thanks to Google, I actually do know this. But I allow him to continue.

"She doesn't have to do that, you know. The recipes have already been tested beforehand. She's given the staff the day's recipe, and she could perform any quality control inspections before the pastries leave the kitchen for distribution." He moves in closer. "But with her, I think it's more than just control; it's dedication."

I'm a bit surprised by the awe in his tone; though, I appreciate the fact that Bella has managed to inspire him in the couple of weeks they've known one another. Truth is, other than my mom and occasional get-togethers with Jasper and his ex-wife, there haven't been many female role models in Anthony's life.

Anthony backs up against the booth and carefully takes me in, sighing. "You're not that dumb, immature guy anymore, Dad," he smirks. "I know that. You've taught me to talk out issues before they spread and fester, _and_ you've taught me never to allow things to run off in a direction you don't want them to go. And Mrs. Laurent…I know Nessie finds her a bit…hover-ish at times, but I've told her, ' _Baby, it's better to deal with a mom who hovers a bit than one who's always too busy to give a shit'."_

Guilt washes over me in buckets. "Anthony, your mom does care-"

He shoots me a glare. "Dad, Mom is Mom, and no one needs to apologize for her. We may not have the closest relationship, but I do love her. My point is, while Mom will always be _my_ mom, I admire Mrs. Laurent, and…I think I get her a bit."

"But…?"

See, I know my son. There's a _but_ in there.

He chews his burger methodically while his eyes cast to the side yet again.

"Sometimes, it just seems like she has a hard time looking at me."

"What?"

"But I guess all this explains it, Dad. You…did what you did, and yes, you were young and stupid, but now she worries for Ness. It's messed up, but it makes sense."

"Jesus, Anthony. I'm so sorry that my stupidity from a quarter of a century ago is messing up things for everyone now."

He shakes his head. "It's not like you could've foreseen everything, Dad. Besides, like I said, Mrs. Laurent seems to be warming up to me, no matter how much she tries to pretend she isn't," he grins before taking another bite of his burger and sobering.

"Now Nessie…"

"Anthony, when Bella and I spoke last evening, we agreed on full disclosure with you guys so you'd know where we were coming from. And again, I apologize if all this-"

"Dad, stop."

"No, listen." I move in closer. "I don't want any issues between Bella and me to affect you and Nessie. Anthony, if it was any other woman," I breathe, "I wouldn't exacerbate the issue by pursuing a relationship. But Nessie's mom…Bella…well, she was…she's…"

He sets down what's left of his burger. "Dad, I get it," he smiles wistfully. "I was eighteen and going off to college the first time you mentioned her. You told me college was a place to find myself but not an open excuse to play games. And then you said that's what you'd done with the girl you'd been with when you started college, but you didn't go into details. Still, I could see…anyway, you've got a right here too. I'm not saying I'm happy about this, Dad, or about how it may affect Ness, but I won't begrudge you your chance at happiness either, old man."

I chuckle at the term, but I'm telling you, this man sitting in front of me…I don't know what I did to deserve him as my son.

"And Ness?"

He smirks. "Like I said, I'm not thrilled about this, but Ness and I…we figured something beyond mere dating went down between you two."

"Does that bother her?"

Anthony exhales a long breath. "Her dad passed away two years ago in September. You want me to be honest? It does bother her." He moves in again. "And now this…but Dad, _I_ know you're a good guy, and I know that Nessie is a fair person. You treat her mom well, and she _will_ see it. Look...I know you're the parent here, but if you're not one hundred percent in, back off. She's a great lady, and there's too much at stake."

He lifts a brow, and I get it. I do. My fucking up here would affect more than Bella and me.

I reach out and pat his shoulder. "I wouldn't do that to anyone involved in this. I'm one hundred percent in."

"Yeah, I know. I just had to make sure." He gives me a crooked grin and backs up once more. "And I get that Mrs. Laurent's got concerns. Good-looking guy like me living under the same roof as her daughter-"

"Anthony." Now it's my turn to raise a brow in warning. "You two better be behaving in that house."

He shoves a handful of fries in his mouth, but it doesn't hide the guilty half-grin nor the red spreading across his cheeks.

"Shit, Anthony, come on."

"Ed, what do you want me to tell you here?" He chuckles sheepishly. "We're careful, okay? But we're also young and crazy about each other. Dad, like I said, I get her concerns. But I love Ness. I mean, really _love_ her. She's the first thing on my mind in the morning and the last one at night. I'll tell Grandpa Carlisle that to his face and be proud of it."

"You're a better man than I was at your age."

He shakes his head. "Nah. At my age, you knew what was up."

"So…you're good with this – with my giving it a go with her?"

He breathes in through his nostrils and releases it slowly. "Yeah," he nods. "Yeah, I'm good with it. I've gotta give it to you, old man, she's a sexy lady." When he wiggles his brows, I laugh.

"She's much more than that. I messed up, Anthony, badly, and now I've got to prove myself to her. But you know what? I believe she's worth it. Hey," I reach out and rest a hand on his shoulder, "you know this doesn't mean, in any way, that I'd change anything that led to having you as my son, right? You're the best thing I've ever done in my life, and I wouldn't-"

"I get it, Dad. I do," he assures me. "Seriously, thanks for talking to me about all this, but you do what you gotta do. We're all grown-ups here."

OOOOOOOOOO

 **Bella**

"She was actually very grown up about it. She admitted it would be...strange for her to see me with another man other than her father, and though I didn't go into details about what happened, I told her enough."

"And?"

"And…I reminded her that it was all twenty-five years ago, and that she should judge Edward and…Tanya, if she ever meets her, based on how they behave in the present. In turn, she agreed she'd try, and she said she understands that it's up to me whether I can trust Edward in the present or not. Either way…she said she just wants me to be happy."

"And what about how this may affect her relationship with Anthony?"

"Well, we agreed to try, as much as possible, to keep both relationships separate."

"Wow. Go Ness and Bella."

"Yeah, go us." I roll my eyes.

Alice snorts. "Why do you sound like you'd been hoping this would've dissolved into some sort of horror show?"

I shrug my shoulders, which isn't so easy to do while in yoga class bent over at the waist with your ass up in the air.

"Well, it would've given me an easy out here; that's for sure." I chuckle quietly so as not to disturb the rest of the class. Pointing your ass up to the sky takes a lot of focus.

Alice's face is a red as a tomato from the blood pooling due to our position. Or maybe she just doesn't find me funny.

"Do you want an easy out?"

"I..." I think of Edward...so close to me yesterday...green eyes so warm and tender...and I can't really answer.

We move on to a plank position and hold the pose for five breaths.

"So you told her that Edward cheated on you with Anthony's mom when you were kids, and you told her that you and he may possibly give it another go. Why didn't you tell her the rest?"

"Alice, _he_ doesn't even know the rest," I hiss.

"Maybe you should tell him?"

We scoop our chests forward into cobra, balancing on our toes and fingertips.

"I'm not ready for that."

"All right." She says the words slowly, in that _it's_ _not-really-all-right-but-I'll-humor-you-for-now_ way. "I suppose you don't know him well enough yet. But if this progresses, you'll have to tell him."

Busying myself with lifting my hips into an upside-down 'V', I withhold a response, but I feel Alice's eyes on me.

"What about Jay?" she asks.

We shift our weight back forward into plank onto our forearms and left toe while lifting our right legs into the air. Our vaginas are now literally open to the sky in offering – which, let's be honest, is why most of us are here.

"Al, there's got to be something in the city's water system. I go from using a vibrator one night to having _two_ guys wanting me the next."

Alice laughs. "Hey, that's nothing to complain about. You and I have the same brand vibrator, and trust me, I know it ain't doing the trick."

The right leg descends, and as we balance on our toes and forearms for five breaths, I imagine Edward lying under me on my yoga mat…waiting for me to lose my balance…and my control.

"You're left with a vibrator because you're married to your job. And Jay…he tried to kiss me last night."

"Told you he would."

"Yeah, yeah, you did. The thing is, Al, when his mouth was near, all I saw was ..." Frowning, I turn sideways to meet her gaze. "Are you sure you want to hear all this? I mean, a lot of it involves thoughts of a romantic nature between myself and a man who isn't your brother."

She grins softly. "Sweetie, my brother isn't here anymore. If he were, I'd be choking the shit out of you right now."

We've since rolled up our bodies and are now sinking into mountain pose, bending our knees and dropping our hips while raising our arms overhead in supplication.

"All right, well, if you're sure you want to hear this. When Jay tried to kiss me, I saw Sam's face in my mind, and he looked…pissed. But then when Edward arrived, and _he_ tried to kiss me…"

"Don't tell me your mental image of Sam was all smiles because that may be pushing it a bit."

"No," I choke. "When Edward's mouth hovered close to mine…there was no other mental image."

Alice is quiet for a while as we extend our arms into 'Ts.'

"I suppose that's how it's supposed to be, Bella. You can't spend the rest of your life seeing Sam when you kiss another man."

Alice doesn't even try to bend into Crescent Pose. Neither do I. At this point, spreading my legs that way with a roomful of exercising woman as witnesses would _so_ not be a good idea.

"I guess that means the chemistry is still there," she whispers.

We've missed a couple of positions so we plunge right into Extended Right Angle.

"Alice, I was married for almost two decades. I have no idea how to do this… _dating_ thing or where to go from here."

She doesn't answer for a while. We move from pose to pose, and in the middle of Tree Pose, she finally looks at me.

"Well, Nessie is okay with it - not that you need her blessing, Bella, or mine for that matter. You do this any way you want. You're a smart woman with your own home, making your own money. It's a totally different ballgame from when you were sixteen or seventeen. Until you're sure of him, you make him walk a fine line, Bella, and if he steps out of it, you get rid of him like yesterday's paper. You're not a kid anymore, and you don't have to deal with that kind of shit again."

I nod silently while we twist ourselves into Exalted Warrior – which oddly resembles a pretzel.

"But…if he's all in the way he says he is, then don't hold back anymore, sweetie. And if things progress, you _have_ to tell him. At that point, not only will he have a right to know, but also, what are you going to do if he wants you to fly up to California for a visit?"

Now I'm a Goddess in the middle of Victory - knees bent, arms bent, and elbows at ninety-degree angles.

"We're nowhere near my crossing the country for him," I chuckle humorlessly. "I'll cross that bridge if and when I ever come to it."

She sighs, arms at hips – _not_ a Yoga pose, mind you, more like a _Bella, you fucking coward_ kind of pose. "Well, when are you seeing him next?"

"We agreed he could call me this afternoon after his meetings."

"How long is he in town?"

"A few days. It depends."

"Depends on what?"

I take a seat on the mat, lengthening my spine, drawing in a deep breath and releasing it slowly.

"He didn't exactly say, but I think…it depends on me."

OOOOOOOOOO

Alice returns to her midtown office, and I return to my office – my kitchen. Over these past couple of weeks, I've been inspired. My mind has been flooded with a multitude of new recipes and ideas for _Swan Bellies_. Oh, I know exactly what's going on. Keeping my mind busy has always been my body's defense mechanism.

When I've exhausted new recipe ideas for the afternoon, I move on to other business like the research I've been conducting on expanding _Swan Bellies_ beyond New York City. In the past few days, I've come to the conclusion that it's the next logical step.

The Spawn seems to be a great proponent of the idea, and though I'll never admit it to him, he's got good suggestions.

 _Mrs. Laurent, if you're thinking of expanding, it may not be a good idea to do so anywhere too near New York. Half of the fun of a new product is knowing you've got to work to get it._

 _Mrs. Laurent, one of the things my dad has taught me in the business is to always research your target market, the trends and the local preferences in an area, before trying to enter it._

Smart-ass Spawn.

I pop one of today's _Out of Control Chocolate Truffles_ in my mouth, chewing through the chocolate ganache center while studying maps and the research info I've gathered on the pastry and dessert industry around each section of the country. When my phone vibrates, my heart jumps.

When Jay's name and number pop up on the screen, my shoulders deflate.

"Hi, honey. Sorry I didn't call earlier, but it's been a busy day."

I cringe at both the tone and the term of endearment that seem to have climbed a few octaves since yesterday.

"It's fine, Jay. You don't owe me a phone call. I was busy anyway."

He's quiet for a few moments. "So what have you been up to today?"

"Much of the same old. Actually, I've been doing some research, and as soon as you have time, I'd like to meet with you and the team regarding the expansion of Swan Bellies beyond New York we've been discussing."

"Definitely. I've been doing some preliminaries on that as well. We've got to move quickly now that we've decided, and the summer would be better for a launch than the fall, that's for sure. But Bell…I've been thinking a lot about _you_ since last evening…"

Oh God, he's seriously going to make me spell it out.

"What are you doing tonight?"

"Jay, I…I may have plans."

Silence.

"Look," I palm my forehead, "God, I don't even know if these things are done over the phone nowadays."

"It's the Information Age, Bell. _Everything_ is done over the phone."

I don't even want to know what he's thinking I want to do here, so I blurt it out before he can work himself up.

"Jay, you're a great friend. Let's not ruin things by trying to force something that's just not there."

The ensuing silence makes me wonder if that was a bit harsh.

"Is it the Kid's Dad?"

This time, I'm the one who's silent.

"There's something there with him, isn't there?"

"There was, yes, a long time ago - before Sam. And now…well, we've been talking about seeing if there's anything left."

"All right, well, we're all adults. I won't force the issue, Bell." Despite his words, his tone is anything but conciliatory. But then it softens. "But if you or Ness need a friend, I'm here. I promised Sam I'd watch over you girls."

I remind myself he's being a good friend and resist the urge to roll my eyes

"Thanks, Jay."

"No problem." He clears his throat, and he's all business now. "So when do you want to get together to plan this expansion? I'm swamped for the next few days."

I frown to myself because wasn't he just asking me out tonight?

"I can try to fit you in…" he continues, pausing to check his swamped calendar, I imagine, "early Monday morning. Say eight?"

"That sounds great. I'll come up to the off-"

The next thing I hear is a click.

I pull the phone away from my ear. "Whoa. Goodbye to you too, Jacob Black. Fucker."

Shaking my head, I'm about to drop the phone onto the counter when it rings again. This time, when my heart jumps, it's because _his_ name and number pop up. (Yes, yes, I've programmed them. I mean, his son _is_ dating my daughter).

"Hello?"

"Hey, Bella." Edward clears his throat. "How has your day been?"

"Hey, Edward. It's been good - productive."

"That's great. Great."

There are about five seconds of dead air.

"How were your meetings?"

"Good, good. Productive as well."

"That's good."

After yet another few more seconds of silence, I begin to wonder: What if the intensity I felt yesterday with him was a fluke…or the effects of more than three glasses of wine in a two-hour period…or the effects of over two years of celibacy? What if it was nothing more than his beautifully full head of hair…or his jaw – he's got a great jaw. Or those green, green eyes. Maybe my vibrator needs new batteries...

"Full disclosure, Bella," Edward says, breaking me out of my musings. "The last meeting wasn't very productive at all."

"How come?"

"It was with a German electronics company we've been working with for a few years. The CEO is a great guy, but his accent is thick as hell," he chuckles. "He kept saying 'I need a beta, I need a beta' and all I kept hearing was 'I need a Bella, I need a Bella'."

He says that last part in a horrible German accent, and I can't even help cracking up.

"Oh my God. Is that the best you could come up with, Edward? Exactly how old are you again?"

"You know exactly how old I am," he chuckles, and I can hear the smile in his voice. Despite myself, it warms me. "So you've had a day now to recover from my advances. Was it time enough to clear your head?"

"Somewhat," I say, determined not to give too much away.

"Okay. Well, I've had some time too, yet as you may probably be able to tell from my apparently corny-yet-true story, my head's still full of you."

Not gonna lie: he's corny, but he's good.

"You've been on my mind as well."

The ensuing silence isn't awkward, but it sure as hell is loaded.

"Okay," he breathes shakily. "That's a good start." His voice is low and throaty. "So there's a restaurant a guy I work with is always telling me I should try while in New York. I was wondering…" I think I hear him swallow, "I was hoping you'd let me take you there tonight? We can talk some more, Bella. I know there are things you still need to know."

I don't answer right away, and I can hear his heavy breaths through the phone line.

"Do you mind if we do something different other than a restaurant?"

It's a split second decision, another thing I don't even realize I'm about to say until I've said it. He does this to me; he makes me…lose control.

"Of course not." Despite his assurance, I hear the wariness in his tone, and I wonder what he thinks I'm going to ask for. His firstborn? Too late for that. Then again, we really don't know one another all that well anymore. Not at all.

"What'd you have in mind?" he asks in a slightly panicked tone.

"Did you happen to pack just a regular pair of jeans and a tee shirt?"

"I did." He chuckles again, sounding relieved now because apparently you can't ask for too much if you ask a guy to wear jeans and a tee shirt.

"All right. I'll text you the address, and you can meet me there at…say eight?"

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 *****I wanted to answer two questions which keep coming up:**

 **1) Why does Anthony sometimes call his father "Ed?"**

 **A: Why did Bella call her dad "Charlie" sometimes in the original Twilight series?**

 **2) How was Edward a college freshman and Bella a h.s. senior if they were two years apart?**

 **A: It's due to the when they were born and when they started school. She was a bit early in starting; he was a bit late. I know that where I live, my daughter is almost a year younger than many of the kids in her same grade, but then my other daughter is almost a year older than the kids in her grade. So if two people with those differences get together, it could technically be about a two year difference. Hope that makes sense.**

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **See you guys Friday!**


	12. Chapter 12 - Brick Walls

**A/N: Surprise! I'm posting early. If you want to know why, please read the A/N at the end. If you don't really care, don't worry about it. :)**

 **Sooo many questions floating around, aren't there? Unfortunately, they can't all be answered in one chapter. Remember, we're not even half way through yet!**

 **Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes. (Though I tinker through to the very end, so all remaining mistakes are mine).**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 12 – Brick Walls**

 **Edward**

When I step out of the cab, she's already there, and I curse under my breath for two reasons:

The first is because although I'm ten minutes early, she's beat me here.

The second is because she's a throwback to the Bella of my youth: tight, ripped jeans and black tank top, dark hair loose and wild around her shoulders. She's even got on Doc Martens. My chest literally constricts as I approach.

When I stop in front of her, her eyes roam up and down my frame, taking in my plain, white tee, dark jeans and Converse. Those deep, brown orbs of hers stand out as they always have from under long lashes, in the middle of creamy, flawless skin. But when she meets my gaze, those eyes give nothing away, not even when a grin spreads across her perfect mouth.

I reach out and instinctively take her hand in mine, exhaling in relief when she doesn't pull away. When I move in and brush my lips against her soft cheek, her familiar scent washes over me, threatening to overwhelm my senses. She's still grinning, a cool and confident grin, when I back away, and I wonder if she's anywhere near as nervous as I am.

"I'm sorry if I had you waiting in the heat," I say because I am sorry, but at the same time, I'm enjoying the thin sheen of moisture making her shoulders glisten.

"That's fine. I have a habit of arriving early everywhere."

We hold one another's gaze, and I'm not sure if we're in the present or the past. Either way, she's still made no effort to remove her hand from mine, and I'll take that as a good sign.

"Have you ever been here when you've been in New York?" She jerks her head towards the beat-up door behind her.

"No, but I've heard of it."

"Good. Are you ready?"

It's a fairly innocuous question asked in reference to a seemingly innocuous invitation – but I know there's more going on here. Despite the time that's passed, I once knew the woman before me intimately. I knew her likes and dislikes. I knew what made her happy and what made her sad. I knew what drew her to me…and I knew how to push her away.

"Yes, Bella. I'm ready."

She's changed, yes. But every moment I spend with her, I not only get to know this Bella, but I also see the Bella of the past seeping through. For example, her quick swallow confirms that despite how in control she seems, some part of her is uneasy. And I know I'm willing to do whatever it takes to change that.

We remain stock still and locked in one another's eyes. "Good to know."

OOOOOOOOOO

The venue is small with dim lighting and a bar all the way in the back. We're led to a table for two, and after the waitress comes by for our drink orders, we turn our attention to the band on stage. The set has already started: young guys, whose raw acoustics are yet another reminder of those days when the woman sitting next to me and I were so very young.

When I turn my eyes to Bella, she's bouncing in her seat to the beat of the music. Another echo of a memory runs through my head of my seventeen-year-old girlfriend and me, rocking out to Eddie Vedder in that all-important year when our love seemed indestructible.

I smile at the memory, and she turns her eyes to me. "What?" she mouths.

I take her hand again, weaving our fingers together. She stares at our joined hands for a couple of seconds before lifting her eyes back toward me.

"Just reminiscing." Drums and guitars explode around us, so I move my mouth around the words with emphasis, tapping my temple with my free hand.

She nods silently.

"They're pretty good," I mouth, jerking my chin towards the stage.

"They are," she agrees.

We listen for a couple of minutes, her soft, warm hand still enclosed within mine. When I move in close to her, she meets me halfway.

"I spoke to Anthony earlier today," I whisper in her ear, and in the dim glow of the overhead lights, I think I see the smooth skin on her neck prickle. It's all I can do not to move in another inch and brush my lips across it.

Before I can give in to temptation, she nods and turns into my ear. "I spoke to Ness."

I meet her unreadable eyes for two seconds before moving back into her ear. "Everything work out okay?"

"As well as can be expected. And with Anthony?"

"Yes. He really admires you, Bella."

We pull back, and her enigmatic eyes hold mine as she nods before returning her attention to the band. Still, she can't be as focused on them as she seems because every half a minute or so, our eyes meet. For the twentieth or so time since we arrived, I wonder just what the hell is going through her head, if her thoughts are anywhere near as jumbled as mine. The band on stage shifts into a rendition of a classic and my eyes once more turn to Bella.

We were already history when this song was part of the present, yet I'd think of her whenever the college stations played it.

Sure enough, she whistles through her teeth and throws her hands up over her head, clapping and grinning, brown eyes sparkling, and I'm…devastated by the deluge overwhelming me while at the same time strangely euphoric of the fact that I'd always known she was most likely somewhere loving this song.

"I love this!" she mouths, confirming the fact.

" _In the sun_

 _In the sun I feel as one._

 _In the sun. In the sun!_

 _Married!_

 _Buried!_

 _I wish I was like you, easily amused!"_

When the song ends, and before the next one begins, I draw in a deep breath and angle myself towards her again.

"It's a great song, but you and I knew about him way before the world at large had any idea who he was."

She smiles wistfully. "You had good taste in music back then; I'll give you that much. I was living in Paris when he died, but I cried for days. What a waste."

"I thought of you when I heard the news. I figured wherever you were…you were probably heartbroken."

"I was. It was like…another nail in the coffin of a sad past."

Again, I'm left wondering if she's referring to the sad past of a young artist with an extinguished future…or the sad past of a love which once held so much promise.

We hold one another's gaze and then turn back to the band. When the set is up, there are a few minutes before the next band takes the stage. We order a couple more drinks, and I take advantage of the intermission to return my complete attention to Bella.

Greedy fucker that I am, this time, I take both of her hands in mine, weaving our fingers together. I only notice the hitch in her breath from the slight heave of her chest, the top swells of her breasts almost peeking out from over the top of her shirt – but not quite. I wonder if she remembers that we used to hold hands like this all the time, if she recalls how her hands always fit so perfectly inside of mine.

I curse myself for forcing her to forget it all.

She looks down at where our fingers lay tangled. "No one has held my hands like this in…a while."

"Does it bother you when I take your hand, Bella? When I touch you?"

There's a debate going on inside her head acknowledged by the way she worries her bottom lip, by the manner in which her eyes remain glued to our hands before she lifts her gaze back to me.

"Edward, whatever this is, it needs to proceed slowly."

Her husband has only been gone for two years. I don't want to rush her, but how do I pretend she's someone who I didn't once know intimately, someone with whom I didn't once share both body and soul?

You go slowly when you don't know the way. We've been there; we just need to find our way back.

"Slow is a relative term."

She laughs at me, but there's something else there before she quickly turns away.

I sweep my eyes around the venue to calm my racing heart.

"This place is great, Bella. I'm glad you suggested it."

"It's not exactly the Seattle grunge scene of our youth. We've got wine and cheese instead of warm beer and fries."

"It's terrific. Besides, we're not those kids anymore."

"No, we're not." Her eyes search mine. "You know? No one else shares my love for this scene. Ness and your son prefer the trendier New York clubs. Ditto Alice, who's into hip hop and whatever the current radio hits are. Everyone else is into similar junk."

"How about Sam? Did he like it?"

"No." Her smile softens. He was her husband, and her love for him echoes in that one word, and it…breaks my heart and makes me so happy and proud of her all at once.

"Sam shared his sister's taste in music – crappy."

We both laugh.

"When Sam and I first moved back to the States," she continues, "we tried out a few different scenes and ended up here with some friends one night. Like I said, Sam wasn't into what they then labeled _Alternative_ ," she smirks, "so we didn't return. Once Alice moved down, I tried converting her to my side, but she hated it just as much as her brother."

The second act shifts into its set. We listen for a couple of minutes, and then I lean into Bella again.

"So since Sam…?"

She narrows her eyes, but when they widen, I know she understands the rest of the question.

"Jay came with me once. _He_ actually seemed to enjoy it."

"Of course, he did," I smirk.

Bella chuckles. "I only invited him the one time."

"How come?"

With a deep sigh, she curls a finger, inviting me nearer. Our faces are so close, and her deep eyes are almost enough to put me into a trance. When her lips begin moving, I'm half hypnotized and completely ready to feel those lips on mine.

"Because he talked too much and didn't let me hear."

When she pulls away, her brow lifts meaningfully.

Despite the jab, a low chuckle escapes me. "All right, all right. I get it."

OOOOOOOOOO

"This area here has a different vibe from midtown."

We left the club about a half hour ago, and now we're walking up and down the streets of the Lower East Side with its colorful nightlife, boisterous crowds, and pleasant and not-so-pleasant scents. We talk about mundane subjects. The entire time, we're hand in hand. I'm somewhere over the fucking moon because this is moving along better than I could've ever hoped.

"That's what I love about living in this city. You walk a few blocks, turn a corner, and you're in a completely different land from the one you just left. LES is…grittier than much of the rest of the city. People around here are still real, still trying to figure themselves out."

"You connect with that."

I'm learning things here. In some cases, I'm relearning. Bella _has_ changed. From the bits and pieces she provides of her husband, I get the impression that although he wasn't exactly a snob, he was higher on the food chain and not exactly one to rough it. She's got a great address in New York City. She enjoys good, vintage wine. She's not the Seattle Bella of my glory days.

But I'm not that guy either.

"Lately, I feel as if I do." She sighs, her gaze steady and level before her. "I'm trying to figure out a lot of things of late."

I stop walking and pull on her hand to halt her too. She stops, but it takes her a few moments to look at me.

"Bella, you can ask me anything you want."

Again, she searches my eyes. "Edward, I should've asked this up front, but…do you have a girlfriend?"

It's a kick in the gut – that she'd feel the need to ask that after I've been pursuing her since more or less the moment I saw her in that restaurant. But I get; I do.

My answer is quick and emphatic. "No, Bella."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"I'm seeing _you_."

She smiles, but there's no humor behind it. The city lights reflect off of her dark and wary eyes.

"Are you seeing anyone _other_ than me?"

"No, Bella." I take a step closer, fully aware of the way her chest heaves, dreading the fact that it's likely not excitement at my proximity. "Have I dated since my divorce? Yes. Have I had any serious relationships? A couple which may have had potential, but…that final connection simply wasn't there - for either party. My last date was…" – I look up at the darkened city sky and start counting because I want to give her as accurate an answer as possible – "right before Christmas. She was a friend of my friend's ex-wife. We went to a seafood restaurant on the bay, had a decent time, but nothing worth a second date – for either of us."

"And that's it since December?"

Under normal circumstances, the third degree would piss me off right about now. But...I fucked up on this woman once, and although it's been over twenty years, that's her last memory of me.

"That's it," I shrug.

She nods, yet the way she presses her lips together leads me to think that there's more…much more…

"What?" I palm her soft cheek, wanting so much to skim my lips across her smooth face the way I did last night. But I get the feeling…

"Bella, you can ask me whatever-"

"I haven't been with anyone since Sam's passing. Well, yesterday-"

"Family Friend?" I quirk a brow.

She chuckles at the mention of him, which all things considered, I'll take as a good sign. "Yes, Jay. I suppose he was my first semi-date since Sam."

It's instinctive when I wrap my hands around her waist. Her breath hitches, and I ache to run my hands up and down her body. But though she doesn't push me away, neither does she reciprocate. Her hands remain at her sides.

"May I ask something that may be a bit personal, and perhaps at this point, none of my business?"

"You can ask; it doesn't mean I'll answer."

"Did Family Friend kiss you?"

Her perfectly groomed brow arches. "He was getting there."

My jaw clenches together, but I say nothing. Yet the way she shakes her head and gives me a rueful grin makes me think she knows. Perhaps she remembers some of _my_ tells too.

When she lifts her hands and finally rests them over mine, my heart races. The city moves around us, but we might as well be on an island for two.

"All right, Edward. Now I'm ready to ask things which may be…personal, but I believe are completely my business."

"Go ahead, Bella. I'll answer whatever you want."

Her soft, timeless features harden. "What was the deal back then? _Why_ , when you once swore to love me forever, did I walk in on what I walked in on?"

OOOOOOOOOO

 _ **Bella**_

 _May 1991_

 _Before walking in, I tilted up my head and took in the grey, south tower residence hall, its shade blending perfectly with Seattle's late afternoon grey skies. Voices and laughter floated in the air all around, guys and girls circumventing me: headphones in ears, Walkmans and books in hand, gossiping while walking or studying on the go. There was a wonderful synergy to their flow; a rhythm known only to these students all performing different tasks yet wired together in a sisterhood and brotherhood of like minds determined to formulate their own way in the world. A sense of awe filtered through me; awe for their freedom, for their liberty to voice opinions and have them heard, and for their ability to make their own decisions. In a few months, I was supposed to be part of all I was beholding, yet in that moment, I felt extremely young and out of place._

 _I swallowed back the queasiness I'd been feeling all day, the ache and discomfort that had accompanied me on the plane ride over most likely caused by what I was here to say in combination with…well, in combination with what I was here to say._

 _With a deep breath, I walked into the building. The large lobby greeted me with more students lounging around, playing board games on the floor or on tables, and practicing chopsticks on a grand piano in the corner. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows was a partial view of grey Lake Washington with the mountains standing majestically behind._

 _There were two young men manning the front desk, yet as I approached to ask for him and to see if I needed to be announced, they paid me no mind, too engrossed in the card game they were playing behind the desk and apparently unaware that I was an interloper in their midst, which was fine; he'd given me his dorm room number months ago._

 _So as I took up the steps to the fourth floor, I practiced for the thousandth time how to verbalize what I'd come to say, what I'd already waited too long to tell him…so long that the words felt like bricks ready to tumble from my mouth. Pretty soon, words wouldn't even be necessary._

 _My heart raced, and my nerves made the ache I'd been feeling all day even more pronounced. In the middle of the floor, I passed a small lounge and paused to look in. A group of four were gathered on the couch watching TV. One of them, a tall and brawny guy, familiar from a picture I'd seen a couple of months earlier, peered up and gave me his own look of semi-recognition._

" _Can I help you, hon?"_

 _I cleared my throat. "I'm looking for Edward…Masen?" I added._

 _He nodded slowly, pausing a beat before responding with a wide grin. "Yeah. Yeah, Ed's in the room all the way at the end of the hall, babe."_

" _Thank you," I said, smiling faintly._

 _Laughter and whispered voices melding with the hum of the TV followed me, fading further into the background as I left the lounge behind and neared the room at the end of the hall. Then other strange sounds took over._

 _Strangely enough, when I pushed open the door, what I found didn't immediately register as anything out of the ordinary: nothing more than a couple on the floor, mouths and limbs entwined. He had one of her hands pinned over her head while she scratched the other down his bare back, leaving red welts in her nails' wake. Her long legs were wrapped around his hips, and it was she who was making the sounds. As I stood there, I felt almost like an uninvited voyeur, like a numb peeping Tom._

 _When she moved her free hand down to the waist of his sweatpants, he pulled back, and it was she who upon opening her eyes, found and held my gaze. Out of my periphery, I could see his heaving chest, but I couldn't actually bring my eyes to him, not yet, not even when he finally turned…and froze._

 _Because in my mind, I was already rearranging my priorities; I was making plans, which wouldn't include him any more than necessary. And when I did open my mouth, the brick that fell out was as impenetrable and indestructible as the wall he'd been the first to erect between us._

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **So tomorrow is my Little Man's Eight Grade Graduation, and I'll be busy all day. First at the graduation early in the morning, then we're going to go watch Liam Hemsworth (aka Sam Laurent's hot brother, lol) save the world in Independence Day, and then we're going to dinner. So, I figured I'd just give you guys tomorrow's update today. :)**

 **Also, apparently, I didn't do a good job last A/N in answering the question: Why does Anthony sometimes call his dad "Ed?"**

 **A: It's just a thing he does! Kind of being a smart-ass sometimes. I know I do it with my parents sometimes (as long as they're in good moods). But…that's all it is. Just a silly thing.**

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **Have a great weekend!**


	13. Chapter 13 - Courting Ghosts

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts. And thank you for all your congrats on my son's graduation! I had a crazy weekend between that and parties and summer barbecues…but now I'm back.**

 **Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 13 – Courting Ghosts**

 **Bella**

 _ **May 1991**_

 _He staggered to his feet, supporting his weight with an unsteady palm resting on the small, rumpled bed from which I assumed they'd fallen. His bare chest heaved, heavy breaths sickeningly loud in the sudden stillness of the room. Rose-colored blotches, which usually appeared on his skin when he was agitated, now traversed his torso like a wayward Connect Four board. He raked a hand through his wild hair, peering at me through dull, glassy eyes narrowed into slits as if he was still trying to figure out who exactly stood before him._

" _Bella?"_

 _Meanwhile, the other one, the one from the picture…from the phone…she sat on the floor smoothing back her long, strawberry-blond hair while adjusting her clothing. Her eyes shifted restlessly from me, to Edward, and back._

 _And I brought my eyes back to Edward's empty ones – eyes which had once been so beautiful and vibrant in my mind, eyes which I'd been hoping…_

 _When he reached out, I took a step back to keep him from touching me, from poisoning more than my heart._

" _Bella…Bella, please. Please, let me…it's not what you-"_

" _Isn't it?"_

 _My chest ached as badly as the rest of me had been aching all day…maybe even worse. And…and I wanted him to ache too._

 _So when he took another step forward, his hand so close to me, I forced the silent tears to stop falling, and I straightened my spine and lifted my chin._

" _Bella…Bella baby, I-"_

" _I came to tell you that I'm going to Paris. I'm leaving, Edward. I thought you should know."_

 _For a few endless moments, his hand remained suspended in mid-air, shaking in the handful of inches between us, a compact space which may as well have been an unbridgeable chasm. Finally, it fell back to his side with a loud thud, curling into a strained knot that turned his knuckles white._

" _You came…" he ran the curled fist through his hair and dug it deep into his scalp, his speech halting as if I'd spoken some foreign language he was still attempting to decipher, "you came all this way to tell me that?"_

" _Yes." The lie fell from my mouth easily, with no hesitancy whatsoever. And her…she was still in my periphery, but I refused to allow my eyes to stray in her direction or acknowledge her in any way. This was no longer about her - or even him for that matter. It was about safeguarding what I had left._

" _Yes, I figured you deserved to hear it in person."_

 _He kept staring at me, appearing somewhat dazed and unbalanced while he fisted his hair over and over and scrubbed it down his face, passing it back and forth over his jaw._

" _All this time…all this time…" His eyes darted around the room as if he were speaking mostly to himself, his head bobbing so vigorously that in any other circumstance, it may have been comical. "Thank you for being so thoughtful, but it really wasn't necessary for you to make this trip."_

" _So I see."_

" _Yeah." He took a step away from me, nostrils flaring. "Yeah, you should go. You should definitely go. You worked so hard for it, and there's obviously nothing worth you staying here for."_

 _The ache in my chest intensified. "Obviously, there isn't."_

" _There's nothing here for you, Bella. You're better off over there. There's nothing worth you staying for. Yeah, yeah, you should go. You should just go."_

 _He echoed it over and over, his voice a careless, emotionless monotone. And part of me…part of me wanted to lunge myself at him, throw myself into his arms and tell him…_

 _But the rational part of me, the one who had to remain steady and in control, the one who had to think like an adult rather than like an impetuous child, knew that now was no longer the right time. There and then, I would've spit the words at him. I would've hurled them like poison, like bricks meant to hurt and punish him for what I'd found._

" _You should go, Bella."_

 _When I could again think logically and reasonably, when my heart and my body stopped aching, I'd call him…or write him…and assure him that nothing need change in his life._

" _Goodbye, Edward."_

OOOOOOOOOO

 **Present**

"She…was one of the first girls I met when I went off to college - a friend of my roommate, Emmett."

"Were you attracted to her from the start? Now be honest." I smile faintly and run my hands up and down his arms to set him at ease – barely even noting the fact that he still has nice, muscularly firm arms, by the way; I simply want the truth here. This entire evening has been about easing him into the truth.

"It's been twenty-five years. I can deal with the answer."

"I thought…she was attractive."

The sharp pang in my chest caused by his five-word answer takes me by surprise. All these questions have had years to roll around in my head, and I've already provided myself answers for many of them.

Muscular arms notwithstanding, the soothing motion of my hands comes to a complete halt. He must sense my mood shift because he takes a step back, drops his hands from my waist, and shoves them into his pockets instead. A wise move, all things considered.

"But I had no intention of doing _anything_ , Bella. I fully intended to remain faithful to you while in college."

"The road to hell…" I trail off. "She liked you from the very beginning. I remember the time I called your dorm, and she took the phone from you." I grin wryly. "I tried to be all grown-up and laid back about it to prove to you that I could be mature about this _boyfriend-away-in-college-and-having-female-friends_ thing - to prove that I trusted you."

"Damn." His face pales under the bright city lights. "I sure as hell proved you wrong, didn't I?" The self-deprecation in his tone is at impressively supreme levels, but like I said, my _soothe him_ mood is out the window.

Instead, I cross my arms against my chest, going for cool as a cucumber when really, they're a barrier.

"I heard it in her voice while we spoke - her being friendly to prove something of her own, I suppose. Did _you_ know she liked you, Edward?"

He nods slowly, swallowing. His gaze wanders to the space between us, deep lines of guilt marring his forehead.

"I knew, but like I said, I had no plans to act on it."

"Until I told you I was accepted into AUP."

His eyes flash back to me. "Not even then, Bella. That winter, I had a talk with my dad. Now he was never much of an advice giver – more like one of those dads who worked, came home, watched the game, and swore he was fulfilling his duty to country and family. But I was desperate; I mean, if you can't count on your dad for good advice, who can you count on, right?"

I have no answer for him.

He chuckles humorlessly. "Bella, you told me about Paris _one damn week_ before I left for college, like you'd been waiting, biding your time, and it circled around my head like a vulture for that entire school year."

"And your dad's advice was to man up and have your fun in school because that's what I'd be doing," I sneer.

He gives me a contrite shrug, rubbing his angular jaw hard with the palm of his hand, a nervous habit he's always had. "Then in school, my buddies, Emmett and James, more or less said the same as my dad - that I was being a pussy," he snorts.

"Peer pressure," I clarify, nodding. "I've always tried to keep Nessie from bowing down to it. So go ahead. You went for it."

"No, Bella. In February, when I went to see you in Phoenix, you were different."

"Because _you_ were different!" I take a step closer because I'm not letting him get away with that shit. " _You_ were distant and apathetic."

"I was never apathetic when it came to you, Bella."

I speak over him. "It was like you were _trying_ your damnedest to make us fight!"

"I was testing you."

"But _I_ was stubborn," I smile. "My mind was never in charge when it came to you, Edward, even though I tried to remain in control when I found that picture of you and your buddies – one of who you casually happened to mention was Tanya – at that Soundgarden concert you went to without me. You knew how badly I would've wanted to be there, how much I was hating Phoenix. But I still held it all in. And your arm was around her…all of you smiling, looking tired and sweaty, and all I could think to myself, even as I smiled my shitty _I'm-not-hurt_ smile, was oh my friggin' hell, she's gorgeous."

"Bella-"

"All tight, cut-off shorts and tube top under her open flannel shirt with her wild, strawberry blond hair cascading down to her ass. I can still see that Polaroid clearly."

"She was nothing compared to you."

"Don't bullshit me, Edward." I retreat a step because my being too close to him right now may prove hazardous to his health – namely, his balls. "Not now – not a quarter of a century later. She was a thousand times prettier than I was. I mean, yeah, I was pretty." My shoulders lift in a shrug. "I'll give myself that. But she was in a totally different league of gorgeousness; I'm woman enough to admit it. It was like that pop song Ness was crazy about a few years back: _She wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts. She's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers…_ " I trail off when I can't recall the rest of the lyrics. "God, Ness used to drive me nuts with that song." My eyes return to his. "Not that I'm justifying what you did, mind you."

"Bella, I couldn't have cared less about what she looked like. I was scared shitless!" He chuckles nervously and fists his hair, shifting his feet back and forth over the gray concrete. "Despite what you said, I could already see you on that plane to Paris. Yes, I see now how all I did from then on was fulfill my own fucked up prophecy, justify the insane shit running around rampant in my head," he hisses, banging his knuckles against his temple, "but back then, all I wanted was to get a reaction from you, to hear you say, _No, Edward, you can't have pretty girls as friends. You can't even think of other girls because I plan to be here forever - no matter what._ "

"I told you it was forever."

"But you wanted to go, Bella. At least admit that. You _wanted_ to go."

I open my mouth to deny it…but no sound comes out.

He smiles sadly. "The day you showed up-"

"The day I cock-blocked you."

He doesn't continue immediately. Instead, he lifts his eyes up to the sky, shivering. I hug my arms around myself to control my own shaking. Crowds of people stroll by without following his uplifted gaze or sparing us a second glance because this is New York, and there's nothing out of place about two people trembling as they rehash their past in the middle of a busy street.

"You know what, Edward? I don't think I want to hear any more. Let's just…"

When I start to walk away, Edward takes my arm gently yet firmly and turns me around, cradling my face in his hands.

"Bella, just let me get this out."

"I don't-"

"Bella, _please_."

I exhale heavily. "Go ahead," I grit through my teeth.

"Thank you," he breathes, chest heaving. Some sixth sense must warn him to remove his hands from my person, though; right now, he might lose them.

Nevertheless, he remains close, his eyes boring into mine. "Look, the things that happened…Bella, I won't blame my father nor Tanya nor…anyone else. It was all me, from beginning to end. I'm the one who owed you loyalty, who owed you trust. But may I tell you something, and will you please try to believe me?"

"Oh, I believe you, Edward. That's not the problem. You've been quite honest since we met again. I see no point in your lying now."

"In other words, I've already proven what an asshole I was."

"Basically." I offer him a token smile to take off some of the sting, but he flinches anyway.

"The day you arrived on campus, I'd already been informed you were leaving for Paris."

"What do you mean you'd already been _informed_? That can't be true."

"Bella, I'd called your house earlier, and your mom told me. Like I said," he says quickly, "I'm not blaming her or anyone for what happened afterward. It was all me; I know that…"

My mind wanders as he continues, casting my memory back to that day, to when I'd been in my room, packing…what was it my mom said she'd told him?

"…I should've kicked her out when she walked in, yes, but I wasn't thinking clearly."

I return my full attention to him. "They told me you were in your room. It's a shame there were no cell phones back then; maybe they could've warned you before I found her yanking down your pants."

He cuts me off with an urgency that's almost palpable. "What? She wasn't yanking down my pants, Bella. I was pulling away because I couldn't…I…Bella, that had never happened before. Yes, I knew she liked me, but that had _never_ happened before."

"What are you telling me, that you got busted cheating the first time you actually cheated?"

"Bella, I was an asshole to you even before that day, I know that. The things I said, the things I didn't say…I was closed off, insecure, immature, take your pick, but Bella…that day…I wasn't thinking clearly. My head…it was…clouded…"

My eyes narrow. "What do you mean your head was clouded?"

He drops his gaze to the space between us.

"Edward, what do you mean your head was clouded?"

When he shuts his eyes, my memory again takes me back to that day…I see his eyes, his always vibrantly green eyes looking strangely dull and empty, his unsteady movements, his nervous hair-raking even more pronounced than usual…

"Edward, were you…on drugs?"

"It's not an excuse," he hisses, reopening his eyes, nostrils flaring. "There is _no_ good excuse, Bella, no good reason, and I'm not proud of any of it. It took me a while, but I see that now."

I stare at him for a couple of minutes, completely dumbfounded.

"Fuck. Fuck, that's all really…unlucky, for lack of a better word." I expel a few sardonic chuckles. "But like you said, none of it is an excuse. None of it changes what I had to see…what I had to _feel_."

"I know." His voice quivers. "I know nothing changes or excuses it, but even as I…I was doing what I was doing, I hated myself, Bella, and I pulled away with no intention of doing it again. But then you were there…you showed up at _just_ that moment, and…and I saw it as a sign."

"A sign?"

He nods ever so slowly. "And then when you opened your mouth and said you were going to Paris, it just reinforced everything, and I thought to myself, _well, I knew it. I knew it would end this way_."

"That's actually _not_ what I showed up to tell you, but after what I saw, I had to hurt you back, and you told me over and over to go, Edward."

He can't seem to think or hear beyond his own shame and self-condemnation. It flashes across his features in a painful display.

"God, I was such an asshole. I broke your heart, Bella; I broke both our hearts and instead of acknowledging that pain, instead of begging for your forgiveness, instead of begging you to stay and give me another chance, I buried it all under a mountain of anger and resentment." He wraps his hands around my arms. "I let you leave, and I stoked that anger and resentment for a long time by telling myself that after you promised you weren't going, after you treated your acceptance as a joke, you were leaving me. I'd just gotten busted cheating, and I justified it in my head by playing the part of the injured party."

"It would've made no difference if you'd asked me to stay, Edward. I wouldn't have, not at that point. I…I was…" I swallow through a dry throat, but the words just won't come out.

"And…Tanya? She was there to comfort you?

"No, Bella." He rakes a hand through his hair. "For a long while after that, Tanya and I didn't even speak. After you walked out of that room, very little mattered to me. I did things…of which I'm far from proud. But she was still my roommate's friend, and she was still around. One day…I was feeling even more shitty than usual and…well, let's just say, a couple of months later, I found out I was going to be a father. At that point, I realized it was time to make a change, time to wake up – for my child's sake, if for no one else. I tried to do the _right thing_ with her, Bella; God knows I tried," he says through clenched teeth, "but the only love I had left to give was for my son."

My chest constricts so tightly I can barely breathe. My legs suddenly feel like jelly. Despite the fact that he's obviously been struggling to keep his distance, Edward closes all that distance and wraps me up in his arms, holding me against his chest – misunderstanding my pain.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he murmurs, stroking my hair, kissing my temple. "They're weak, insufficient words, but I'm so sorry."

"Edward…" I begin again, pulling away, and I try, I really do, but…I can't seem to finish.

For a long, long while, we stand there at the corner of Stanton and East Houston, eyes on one another as we replay a past which…for so many reasons, simply didn't work. The shadows from the streetlamps above us dance in his eyes, the glow illuminates the gray at his temples and highlights pronounced lines on his forehead which don't seem to ever completely relax. Cab horns honk somewhere in the background, two boys pass us by rapping to some current hit, and an ambulance siren blares urgently in the distance. Yet none of it manages to break our gaze.

He's not the Edward of my youth.

So what exactly am I doing here? Am I stupidly trying to hold on again - attempting to reclaim days gone by or claiming victory over _the other girl_ after a quarter of a century?

And _how_ do I tell him my truths?

It's hard to answer all these questions when those vibrantly green eyes are piercing so deeply into mine.

He's the first to break the silence cocooning us.

"Does any of this make sense, Bella?"

"I'll be honest," I say - and I will be, with everything…in my own time, "had you given me this story back then, I still wouldn't have forgiven you. I was young too, Edward, and I hated you for a long time."

His knuckles caress my cheekbone. "And _now_?" he asks, a note of desperation tinging his tone.

"Now I've lived through a lot worse than a cheating boyfriend. And…I see how stupid and immature kids can be. How nonsensical their reasoning skills can be."

He shakes his head slowly. "Anthony isn't me, Bella. Please don't punish him for what I did or for who his mother is. I've spent the past twenty-two years trying to be a father whom he can really count on, teaching him from my mistakes."

"I'm trying very hard…to stop doing both of those things, Edward."

The truth is that neither one of those is my problem with Anthony, not anymore. But it would take way more mental fortitude than I have left this evening to get into that.

Instead, I draw in a deep breath. "I know I asked for all this honesty, and I really appreciate how openly you've given it, but can we…can we hold off on the rest?"

He frowns minutely, running his hands up and down my shoulders. "Of course. Had enough for one night?"

"Definitely enough. I've got my own truths to tell, Edward, but I'm ready to call it an evening. Besides," I smile, trying to break the tension, "I've got to make the donuts in the morning."

For a split second, he still looks a bit wary, but then he nods, breaking into a faint, crooked smile in return. "Time to make the donuts. I'm beginning to think that's your go-to line." When I chuckle, his hands span around my waist again, fingers lightly caressing my hips. "I guess that means I won't be getting lucky at the end of this date?"

I know he's just teasing me in return, trying to dispel the ghosts of the past we've been courting all evening. The thing is, I think we both know that for us to move forward, we'll have to keep company with those ghosts a bit longer and then do more than dispel them with teasing. There are skeletons hiding in closets he can't even fathom exist.

"You weren't going to get that lucky tonight, anyway."

Edward throws back his head and laughs.

Despite myself, I'm mesmerized. He's older yet still so young, confident yet much less arrogant, and I find this sexy, honest, open, much more mature, and less cocky Edward a thousand times more attractive than I ever found his younger counterpart. And that's saying something because if my memory does me justice, I once believed him to be the hottest boy in the world.

More than that, I once loved a boy named Edward… _Anthony_ …Masen.

And despite everything that happened, I believe that in his own stupid, immature way, he loved me too.

I'm lost in these thoughts when he stops laughing and eases his head to my level, eyes on mine, voice low and urgent.

"Bella, I messed up twenty-five years ago, but I can't say I regret the paths we took, and we both know why."

"I know, Edward."

"So we'll call it remorse, and along with that sadly deficient word, I'll give you all the answers you want and need."

"Edward-"

"But I've gone twenty-five years remembering…dreaming about…" His gaze flashes between my eyes and lips, and even if it wasn't spelled out clearly in his hungry gaze, I wouldn't need to ask what he's dreamed and remembered. If I must be as honest as him, every once in a while, in between a rich and full life which sometimes grew hectic and busy…I couldn't control my dreams either.

It's almost rough when he pulls me in, but when his lips brush over mine, they're soft and tender before quickly growing firm and insistent. My lips part on a gasp, and his tongue slides in.

And my mind whispers that it's too soon, that there is still too much unknown, too much undisclosed.

But my body…my heart…

There's a reason I didn't kiss Jay yesterday – more than one actually, but we'll stick to the pertinent one here. The fact is that I haven't been kissed in a long, long time, and when you've gone that long without, sometimes you're willing to settle; your craving can be filled by whatever finally appears.

Edward sighs into my mouth, and his tongue around my tongue tastes like mint and relief and remorse and pleasure all rolled into one. When he slides his hand into my hair and pulls me in even closer, I melt against his hard chest and make no attempt to stop this very public display.

No, my mind was never the one in charge when it came to the Edward of my youth. But…

…but, he's not the Edward of my youth.

Too soon or not becomes a moot point. Horrible mistakes, disastrous misunderstandings, and…despondent grief led us in separate directions, but now…at the corner of Stanton and East Houston, cocooned by an obliviously indifferent crowd and by the roaring sounds of New York City, Edward Masen's mouth rediscovers mine. It's warm and moist, hard and insistent…frighteningly familiar yet exhilaratingly new.

And no.

No, I sure as hell haven't settled here.

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **See you guys on Wednesday. :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts, guys!**

 **Betad** **by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

 **Ch. 14 – Cautious Optimism**

 **Edward**

I lounge on the hotel room couch with my arms folded behind my head and allow my gaze to sweep over the commanding view. It's being provided courtesy of the thirty-second floor of the New York City Marriott Marquis where floor-to-ceiling tinted windows open up to a landscape vibrating with raw energy. Streets teem with hordes of tourists rushing like a zombie herd down the Great White Way. Heads tilt up in awe of larger-than-life billboards advertising everything from Broadway musicals to mall-label underwear. Flashing lights from large-screen jumbotrons dance restlessly against an ink-like backdrop of night sky. Yellow cabs crowd the main thoroughfare of Times Square like swarming bees circling their hive.

The entire scene exacerbates the edginess coursing through my veins.

I get up and walk to the windows, palming the smooth glass before touching my forehead to its frame. When I shut my eyes, it's not crowds or billboards or flashing lights that I see dancing behind my lids; rather, it's an image of Bella – and not old memories filled with the Bella of my youth. They're current images of the Bella of now. More specifically, it's a flashback to the both of us in a dark cab about a half hour earlier.

My scalp prickles as if her hands were still running through my hair. My fingertips feel the ghost of her hips, and I wonder if her lips sting as much as mine from all the kissing we did in the back of that cab.

A cautiously optimistic smile lifts up the corners of my mouth.

There's a feeling you get when you pull out of the gas station with a full tank, and you swear you can now drive anywhere in the damn world. That gas tank is full to bursting, and the world is your oyster; it's one wide, open road full of possibilities.

I haven't felt that…in a long while. Don't get me wrong; I haven't been a complete, miserable fuck for the past quarter century; although, those first few years after I lost Bella were…hard. But then Anthony came along, and between taking care of him, building my business, and making real friends, I learned to give and receive respect and love. I learned what mattered. And even though my original destination was no longer attainable, I adjusted the journey's end to correlate with what I had in my tank.

So no, there was no real, romantic love - nothing lasting, anyhow, but my days were full...even if my nights were lonely. My tank had enough gas to keep the car going...to keep the heart pumping, at least.

But now…now it seems as if maybe…perhaps…if I can give her all my truths and get her to share hers, perhaps it'll gas the car enough to get us to that destination after all.

We're older. Wiser.

But we may as well have been a couple of teenagers a short while ago. Thank fuck for New York City cab drivers who've seen it all and couldn't care less.

And thank goodness for a woman who seems willing to see past the stupid kid I used to be.

What would've made me even more grateful would've been Bella here in my room, pressed against these tinted glass windows with the city behind her and me in front while having her fist my hair and scream at the top of her lungs the way she used to when she came. Then I'd grab her thighs and bury myself deep and…

...and I snort to myself, dropping my head and moving it from side to side. Not that the mental image I just conjured isn't as delicious as all fuck - literally - but I'm not a kid anymore, and this woman…she's the one who's haunted my dreams for the past twenty-five years. I'm not about to screw up an actual chance with her for...well, for a screw.

"Bella…"

In the absolute silence of my room, her name echoes off the walls. Eyes still closed, I imagine her behind me, her warm breath on the nape of my neck, her hands on my hips, her lips brushing over my spine.

Despite my restlessness, I can't say I'm disappointed with the way the evening ended. We communicated in a way I don't think we would've ever been able to do back when we were younger. Yes, it was a difficult discussion but a necessary one. And I'm not stupid enough to think we're done with the hard part and can just move on to a happily ever after. There are things she still deserves to know as well as things she says she has to share. And there's the fact that her daughter and my son are involved in their own relationship.

So we've agreed on a lunch date tomorrow once my morning meetings are over and she's done with her pastries for the day. She'll give me a couple of hours of her day here and there, leaving me wanting more and more, but I won't complain because Bella is no pushover, but neither is she a delicate china doll. Whoever believes either of those traits apply to her – namely _Family Friend_ – is sadly mistaken.

There are still many unknowns. But there is one huge known – at least, to me – and I believe it may be the most important one.

There's nothing that'll change what I want from her or what I'm willing to give here:

Absolutely everything.

OOOOOOOOOO

We meet at noon the next day at a pizza place on Eighth Avenue, across the street from Madison Square Garden and a few blocks from the office where I'm at meetings today. Despite the fact that I arrive fifteen minutes early, she once again beats me there.

She's sitting at a table for two and gives me a small smile when I approach. I'm more than a bit nervous, but I grin easily as I lean down and slide my hand around the nape of her neck, carefully pulling her mouth to mine. And when I brush my lips against hers, she responds, letting me know we're both still more or less on the same page. A surge of relief courses through me at the fact that she doesn't appear to have changed her mind overnight. This is all still too new for me to take for granted – and I honestly don't think I ever will.

"You beat me again," I say as I take a seat.

She chuckles. "I believe in always being prepared, Edward."

I reach out right away and take her hand on top of the table, weaving our fingers together. My heart literally expands at the contact.

"Prepared for what, Bella?" I arch a brow. "I have no hidden agenda."

She laughs lightly. "We'll see."

No, she doesn't completely trust me yet, and though it stings, I can understand.

So I simply smile and hold her dark gaze. She really is a…gorgeous woman. Her hair brushes just past her shoulders in loose waves. Her makeup is minimal, but she doesn't need it: long eyelashes curl perfectly, and when she smiles, her eyes sparkle brilliantly. She's wearing a blue, sleeveless blouse which reveals well-toned arms. Since she's sitting, I can't see the rest of her, but I plan to keep my eyes open.

"How was your night?"

"Restless," she admits with a smirk. "And yours?"

"Same," I grin. "I've been anxious to see you, missing you already."

Shit, I'm not holding back here, am I?

She draws in a few uneven sighs, her eyes holding mine.

"Shall we order?" she says, withholding a response, but I'm not really expecting one - not yet.

"Sure. What do you suggest?"

"Here? Just basic pizza, California Boy. You do still like pizza, right?"

It's those little things she still remembers that instill me with hope. I wonder if she even realizes what it means for her to still remember these details.

"I do still like pizza, yes. And if I recall correctly…" I grin, "you always liked mushrooms and peppers on yours."

"You do recall correctly," she chuckles.

I sigh like a lovesick puppy, and I honestly don't care if I'm such an open book. "We'll get our regular then: half plain and half mushrooms and peppers. You wait here. I'll order."

"Go ahead."

So I get up to order us a pie, and when I look back, Bella is checking me out. I won't even lie; it thrills the shit out of me. No, I may no longer be the cocky, arrogant fool I was in my teens, but I'm aware I fill out a suit pretty well, and if Bella enjoys what she sees, then all the better.

After ordering the pie and a couple of waters, I return to her and pick up her hand all over again. I don't plan to let go, not in the way that counts - not ever again. We've been apart for twenty-five years, and now that I've found her again, it's almost overwhelming the need I have to touch her whenever she's near. It's like I'm making up for lost time.

We make small talk for a few minutes, drinking our waters while we wait for our pizza to be ready. She tells me about her morning, and I tell her about mine.

"Have you spoken to Anthony today?" she asks casually.

"No, not today. Why, is there a problem?"

"No," she reassures me quickly. "I was just wondering. Don't you speak to him every morning?"

"Not every morning, no. He'd probably curse me out after a while if I tried calling him every morning."

"Hm." She bites her straw, eyes cast downward.

"Hm, what?" I grin.

"I call my daughter every morning."

"You mean when she's in school?"

Bella nods.

"How does she feel about that?"

She smiles sheepishly. "Sometimes she doesn't sound too happy about it, but it's my job as her mother, isn't it?"

Now I tread with caution, clearing my throat, "You watch over her carefully."

"Of course, I do. She's my daughter."

"Before Sam passed away, did you always keep such a watchful eye on her?"

"I have my reasons for being cautious, Edward." Her tone is both abrupt and sharp, but then she sighs. "But I suppose…with Sam's passing, it has reinforced my concern. I'm both Mom and Dad now."

"That's understandable," I say. "I've felt that way in the past with Anthony as well. Hey," I squeeze her hand, "I didn't mean to make it sound as if I was criticizing you."

She offers me a smile, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. Just then, our pizza arrives, saving us both from the sudden unease that's surrounded our small table. She keeps her eyes on the pizza, and I've got to say, it's impressive: melted mounds of white cheese over a rich red sauce and a golden crust. No joke: my mouth waters.

"Looks good, huh?" She's looking my way again, and her knowing grin makes me chuckle as does the fact that she seems to be ready to move on from what was apparently a touchy subject.

"Pizza never quite looks this way on the west coast."

"I do remember that," she says.

Taking one of the paper plates provided, I serve Bella a slice, the cheese oozing between the plate and the pie as I pull it apart. She waits while I serve myself one, and then with our eyes on one another, we both bite into our respective slices at the same time.

"Oh my God, Bella."

She bursts out laughing, chewing her bite before answering. "I bet you can't find _this_ in California, can you?"

"Hell no." I chew off half the slice with my next bite, and Bella chortles through a full mouth.

"This place has been one of the top pizza joints in New York for about the past twenty years."

"You keep pulling out the big guns here, huh?"

"It's not hard to do," she shrugs. "I've got to show you how the east coast does it better."

"Baby, I believe the east coast/west coast wars died out in the mid-nineties with Tupac and Biggie."

She laughs so hard she almost spits out pizza. "I can't even believe you just said that, Edward. Were you always this corny?"

"Maybe. Maybe you just loved me too much once to notice."

"Hm," she smiles but again refuses to expand.

We settle back into a comfortable conversation, talking through full mouths for the next ten minutes because seriously, the pizza is that damn good.

Halfway through my third slice, Bella laughs again. "Jeez, I can see where Anthony gets his appetite."

I set down what remains of the slice – which isn't much. Bella stopped after two.

"First, I hope that doesn't mean my son is making an embarrassing pig of himself in front of his girlfriend and her mom. And second, I don't always eat this way."

"No, he's not making a pig of himself at all, and I can tell you watch what you eat."

Those words spread a grin over my face which feels like it's about to split my cheeks in two.

"You obviously don't eat this way often either."

A beautiful blush colors her features.

"No, not often."

"And with the baking?" I wonder aloud. "How in the world do you keep yourself so…

 _delicious, scrumptious, sexy, hot, desirable_

"fit with all the baking you do?"

"That's actually easy," she says. "I take a couple of bites just to ensure the quality and taste, and put the rest down."

"You have some kind of self-control," I say.

"I've had practice," she snorts wryly. "My sister in law, Alice, Sam's sister, accuses me of being slightly…OCD."

"OCD how? OCD as in all your canned goods are organized into equal-sized stacks with the labels all facing forward?"

"What's wrong with that? No, no." She rolls her eyes. "Not so much _that_ but more as in an _I-like-being-in-control_ sort of way. She says I try a bit too hard to control Nessie's life."

"Ah, okay." I sit back, watching her. Her gaze is steadily on me, but I can see the jittery bouncing of her leg and the way it makes the rest of her move. This is going somewhere, and for some reason, the uneasy feeling returns. "She's your only child. It's understandable."

"When Sam got sick, it was a…reminder of how little control we have in life, you know? It's like whoever is out there just loves proving that control can be taken away from us…" – she snaps her fingers – "at the snap of a finger."

"You can't go through life trying to control everything."

"I know that," she says somewhat defensively. "Sometimes, it's just hard to…let go and hope for the best - like with my daughter. It's been difficult having her so far away."

"You're a great mom, Bella."

"How would you know?" she grins.

"Because I have personal experience with the opposite. I stopped at one kid for a reason, Bella. You can't have just anyone as your kid's mother. In the short amount of time since I've known you again, I can see how much care you give your daughter...and my son. I know…it can't be easy, and I truly appreciate it."

When she looks away this time, it's almost as if she can no longer meet my eyes.

"Bella…do you still miss Sam?"

She brings her rich, dark eyes back to me. "Of course, I miss him. I'll _always_ miss him. But I've stopped mourning him if that's what you're asking. We had a rich life together, but those last couple of years…He's at peace now, which means the world to me."

Instinctively, I pick up her hand and bring it to my mouth, kissing the top of it lightly. He was hers once, and I fully deserve that. But if I have any say in it, she'll be mine from here on.

"I'm glad you had a good life with Sam."

Her dark eyes are glassy, and she nods quietly. But then she lifts her chin and draws in a deep breath.

"Do you have time for a stroll around MSG to walk off the pizza or would you rather stay here and continue scarfing down the rest?"

"You've got a smart mouth, don't you?" I say. When she chuckles impishly, I gather my courage and move in closer, tracing the outline of her lips with the tip of my finger. "Though, to be honest, I'd rather work it off a different way."

She swallows, her eyes sparkling wickedly. "Yes, I remember how you used to like to work it off. Unfortunately," she grins wickedly, "that won't be happening anytime today."

"Not _today_ , huh? But…in the foreseeable future?"

She laughs. "Come on; let's take a walk."

OOOOOOOOOO

The heat here on the east coast is sticky and uncomfortable unlike the dry heat back home. And with Bella's smart little mouth back at the restaurant, I'm feeling more than my share of discomfort below the waist.

It's too soon for that, though; I know it is. It doesn't mean I can't dream.

We stroll through the busy afternoon streets, circling the round structure that's Madison Square Garden. I wrap my arm around her shoulder and hold her close to my side while she wraps her arm around my waist, and discomfort down below be damned. This is heaven.

Then she turns to look at me, and I watch the movement of her neck as she swallows, holding my gaze. Seconds pass. Her long lashes blink. Her mouth readies itself to speak more than once, yet nothing comes out.

I stop us and turn to her, cradling her cheek in one hand. "Hey," I say softly, "what is it?"

"I…have things to tell you, and I don't even know where to start."

"At the beginning?" I suggest with a grin, dropping my head to her level. "That's always a good place to start."

She nods vigorously, and a shiver suddenly rolls up her spine.

"Hey, Bella…" I wrap my hands around her waist.

"Damn it, I feel like the biggest hypocrite," she snorts, her voice shaky as she trains her eyes on a spot just past me. "You've been so open with your past-"

"And you'll give me yours. But if you're not ready to do so right this second, that doesn't make you a hypocrite."

She returns her eyes to me, and I give her a comforting smile. "I'm not here to spook you, Bella, or to force things from you which you're not ready to give. As you've said, you lived…a full, rich life with your husband. The things that happened between us became your past, and after a while…I suppose you had no reason to dwell on any of it any longer. I'm grateful for that; I truly am. But me…well, I've been ready to give you my truths since the day I figured out what being a real man truly meant."

"The day your son was born."

"Yes."

"Edward-"

"But I never got over you, Bella, and I'm fine with admitting that," I assure her. "I didn't love you or take care of you as I should've, but at the same time, I never loved any other woman with the intensity that I loved you. It may sound contradictory," I shrug, "but it's the best way that I can explain it."

"There are things…"

"I can tell there are things." My thumb traces the smooth skin just under her eye, the slightly dark circle I didn't notice earlier. "A couple of days ago, you told me that when you envisioned yourself dating again, you envisioned something simple; someone, who wouldn't complicate your life. I don't want to be a complication. I want to be someone you can count on, someone to lean on, someone you can speak openly with when you're worried about Nessie or when you're excited about your business. When you shiver in my arms," I breathe, "I want it to be from excitement, not unease. When you're ready, Bella. We'll take it all at your pace."

"That hardly seems fair," she smiles sadly, "to do everything on my schedule. And don't you have a business to get back to?"

"I've got a great partner helping me run things," I grin. "Besides, I can justify a couple more days in the Big Apple. As for going by your schedule…" Leaning in, I brush my lips over her warm, soft ones, "as long as you let me keep kissing you, I can slow myself down."

"You can definitely keep kissing me," she nods breathlessly against my mouth. "Kiss me a lot."

"I plan to. The rest...I'll just wait out and let you catch up to where I've been for years."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **See you guys on Friday!**


	15. Chapter 15 - Pop My Cherry and Run Tarts

**A/N: Thanks so much for your continued thoughts. I've got just a small piece of news if you want to meet me at the end of the chapter.**

 **Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 15 – Pop-My-Cherry-and-Run-Tarts**

 **Bella**

Edward is trying hard not to push – at least not too hard. It's not as if I haven't noticed. He says he'll give me time and space, but I'm not sure how much time and space I want or need.

I'm terrified…and excited beyond reason.

All afternoon after our lunch date, we text each other stupid things - nonsensical sometimes.

 **Him: I'm bored and about to knock out at this meeting. Tell me something fun – tell me the name of tomorrow's Swan Bellies.**

 **Me: Sorry. Can't. That's a well-guarded trade secret, which only gets released the day of. Anticipation builds desire and all that marketing stuff.**

 **Him: Trust me, I know. Among other things, you've become a sales genius. But if you tell me, I'll keep it to myself. I promise.**

 **Me: You're making a whole lot of promises here, Edward.**

 **Him: And I plan to keep them all.**

 **Me: In any case, sorry. No Insider Swan Bellies Info for you. You'll find out soon enough.**

 **Him: Bella, you're one tough cookie to crack.**

 **Me: God knows you're trying.**

 **Him: God knows I am.**

AND:

 **Him: You may not be willing to give me "Insider Info," but I am. Through covert channels (namely, Anthony), I've just found out that my son is having a "guys night out" because Ness would like a mother/daughter evening with you.**

 **Me: Yes, she just texted me! Thanks so much for trying to give me a heads up, Edward. This makes me happy.**

 **Him: I know it does, and that makes you wonderful in my book.**

AND

 **Him: What are you doing right now?**

 **Me: Research for the Swan Bellies expansion project. You?**

 **Him: Thinking of you and in a meeting…while thinking of you.**

 **Me: Wow. Seriously, were you always this corny? Are you sure you're forty-four?**

 **Him: No. I'm eight…and a half. Remember?**

(It takes me a minute to get that one. When I do, I laugh out loud at his brazenness. Seems he hasn't changed all that much – except perhaps...in the ways that really matter.)

 **Me: Really? You must've grown over the years.**

 **Him: Not laughing here - at all.**

 **Me: Well, I AM. And you totally asked for that one.**

AND:

 **Him: What time do you usually go to bed?**

 **Me: Depends on the day of the week. If I have to make the donuts, early-ish. If I don't, late-ish. You?**

 **Him: If I'm thinking of you, early-ish. If I'm thinking of you, late-ish.**

 **Me: All right, Cornball. BEFORE we reconnected, what time?**

 **Him: Bella, there hasn't been a before you in decades.**

 **Me: I'll be turning off my phone early tonight. I don't want any interruptions during Mother/Daughter time.**

 **Him: Got it. I'll talk to you in the morning, then. Enjoy your night, and sweet dreams. I know mine will be.**

OOOOOOOOOO

The Spawn (shit, _Anthony_ ) and Ness arrive home late in the afternoon. There's a flurry of activity while Anthony gets ready for an evening with the boys, and then there's about a half hour make out session by the door followed by about fifty-six _I love yous_ and twenty-eight _I'll miss you so much tonights_. Meanwhile, I sit on the couch playing See No Evil, Hear No Evil with myself (while possibly rolling my eyes) and wait as I sort through the selection of DVDs at my side that I've already pre-selected.

"Have a good night, Mrs. Laurent!" Anthony calls out about twenty hours later.

"You too. Hey, are you taking a sweater or a hoodie or something?"

"Uh, no. Should I?"

"Yes, you should. It's warm now, but it might get cool later on tonight." Darn Spawn. Didn't anyone ever teach him about temperature shifts?

He walks back in and grins at me, green eyes just like his father's crinkling at the corners, and…and I smile back at him.

"That's true. I'll just run upstairs and get one. Thanks for the reminder, Mrs. Laurent."

"No problem…Anthony," I murmur.

OOOOOOOOOO

Once Anthony is finally out the door, Ness remembers she has a mother. She jumps next to me onto the couch with a wide grin on her beautiful face, looking so young it breaks my heart.

"So what should we do tonight, Mommy?"

I'm telling you, butter in her hands when I'm _Mommy_. I push back a strand of her silky, blond hair - the same color as her father's.

"Anything you want, baby, but…we haven't had a movie night in a while."

"I was thinking the same thing," she smiles. "Let's have a good, old movie night with gooey, buttery popcorn!"

(By the way, by _old_ movies, she means anything pre-2000 A.D.)

"Dad used to love Movie Night. Do you remember?"

"Of course, I remember, Ness."

"Can we watch _The Nutty Professor_? That was his favorite."

"The Nutty Professor it is."

So we end up on the couch watching _The Nutty Professor_ , circa 1996. Nessie watches the movie with her head resting on my lap, eating her buttery popcorn. It used to be Sam's lap which got her head; I used to get her feet.

 _Ness will be married someday, Bell. She'll have a family of her own, and they will be her priority, and that's just fine; that's how it's supposed to be. Don't forget that, ok? When we married, you and I became one another's priorities, but that doesn't mean that once I'm gone, you have to spend the rest of your life alone. Don't be afraid to move on. You'd been hurt by the loss of something infinitely precious when we met, but you found the strength to move forward. You're so strong, Bell, and it's knowing your strength which makes it bearable for me to leave you now. I want to know you were able to love again, Isabella, with all your heart and soul - the way you do everything. You loved that way before me, and you can love that way again…"_

The movie plays, and I'm quietly surprised by the fact that…there are no tears with that memory of Sam's final letter.

And now Edward…with his openness and eagerness…and…and the possibility of so much more if we can just navigate this-

"How are things going between you and Edward?" Ness asks this seemingly out of the blue, her eyes stuck on the screen where Professor Klump's ass is currently popping out like a hot air balloon.

I run my fingers through her hair and wait for her to turn and meet my eyes.

"We're…exploring our possibilities. We had lunch together today."

"I know."

"How do you know?"

"Anthony told me."

"How does Anthony know?"

"His dad told him. He says his dad sounds…hopeful."

I nod slowly while her blue eyes study me. "Ness, I know you said this was okay with you, but if it's not…"

She draws in a deep breath. "It's not that, Mom. It's just...after you and I spoke, I kind of expected him to get on a plane right back to California, not to spend a few more days here…with you. Edward's great from what I've seen; he is. And I guess whoever he was way back when…Anthony assures me he's not that guy anymore. Anthony worships him, which has to mean something, right?"

"The way you worshiped your dad."

She swallows. "I know it's juvenile of me to compare, and I suppose it's karma for showing up here with Anthony and shoving him under your nose," she chuckles.

"It's not juvenile, and it's not karma…well, maybe a little karma. No, no, I'm teasing. Ness, no matter your age, you're allowed to miss your dad and feel protective over him. He's on my mind too. Don't think for a moment that he isn't."

"I look around this house...and it's hard to imagine another guy taking Dad's place here."

"Hey, listen to me," I say. "First, you're moving this along way too fast. Second, this will _always_ be your dad's house."

"I don't mean it that way, Mom," she says apologetically. "This is your house, and you can bring whomever you want here. _I_ don't even live here anymore; I'm just a visitor myself. You and Edward have every right to move forward, especially at this advanced stage in your lives. Anthony and I both agree on that."

And just like that, she's obliterated all the warm and fuzzies I was feeling here. And that damn Spawn is lucky he's not in front of me right now; that's all I'm saying.

"Jeez, we're not in our nineties, Ness. It's not like I need him to help me up and down the stairlift or as if he needs me to straighten his dentures."

She breaks out into fits of laughter, her back arching over the couch and her long legs kicking as she holds in her stomach.

"Come on, Mom, you know that's not what I meant! He's actually a really hot dude - for a guy his age. And you know you're a hot mama."

I roll my eyes at her botched compliments. "Yeah, yeah, I know what you meant." Then I kiss my fingers and place them on her forehead. "I love you too, Nessie - my miracle baby. Now let's get back to this movie."

OOOOOOOOOO

The following evening, Edward picks me up at home for our dinner out; although, he arrives about forty-five minutes early, so I'm still in the shower. When Ness runs up to tell me he's here, I smile to myself because I know what he's doing – he's trying to beat me at my own game!

So while I rush to finish up, Ness tells me that she and Anthony are leaving (how they survived their one evening apart without damage is anyone's guess). I do a quick and probably shitty job with shaving my legs and underarms, slip into a slinky black dress, run the blow-dryer through my hair, and apply mascara and lipstick.

When I make it downstairs, I find him standing by the mantle and checking out our family pictures; from here, I can see his focus on one of Nessie graduating Kindergarten. I love that one because her two front teeth are missing, yet she grins as if she has no idea how goofy and adorable she looks.

Edward is dressed in a crisp, white button-down and dark slacks, his thick, dark hair all brushed back except for a few strands which seem strategically out of place towards the front. When I clear my throat, he moves his eyes toward me and rakes them appreciatively up and down my frame, a wide grin spreading across his handsome face. He doesn't exactly whistle because we're not twenty-year-olds (we're senior citizens according to my daughter and his son), but he does exhale a long breath through narrowed lips.

"God, you're gorgeous."

He holds my gaze as I walk over to him and rest my palms on his chest, lifting myself up on heeled toes to reach his cheek. He's got other ideas, however, quickly turning his head so that I meet his waiting mouth instead. His lips are warm and soft, just as they've always been. His strong arms quickly encircle me.

"You look pretty good yourself."

"I did my best," he grins crookedly.

"So, you got me. You were ready _way_ before me."

He gives me a playful wink, his hands caressing my hips. "I told you I'd beat you to it one of these days."

"You didn't wait too long."

"I see no reason to waste time here, Bella."

"Hmm," I smile. "The kids are gone?"

He nods, his lips contorting into a smirk. "I think I may have been tag-teamed."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Anthony very conveniently had to go outside to wait for a cab when Ness went upstairs to let you know I was here. When she came back down…"

"Oh, shit. What did she say to you?"

He chuckles, sliding a hand around the nape of my neck. "Nothing bad, don't worry. Let's just say you and Sam raised a great girl, who knows how to take care of her family. I'm proud of her; although, I didn't say _that_ ," he grins. "I'm sure _that's_ not what she wanted to hear."

"I think the events of the past few days have woken her overprotective streak. Hey, she's my kid," I shrug. "Some of it was bound to rub off."

He laughs. "Like I've said, you're a great mother. If you don't mind me asking," he tilts his head sideways, "how come you only had one?"

Swallowing, I pull away slightly, my eyes roaming over all the pictures of Ness on the mantle while my heart and mind race.

"I had complications – something called cervical incompetence, a mouthful which just means it was a difficult pregnancy, and the doctor suggested that I quit while I was ahead."

Out of my periphery, I see him watching me, probably wondering why I sound like the warnings after a pharmaceutical commercial. "Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine, Edward." I pretend to wave off his concern, but my brain is literally screaming at the top of its lungs. _Say it, you damn coward. Say the fucking words!_

"I'll say it again," he murmurs, turning me back towards him, his mouth inching closer to mine, " _you_ have been a wonderful mother, and I wish..." He trails off, and when he pulls me in flush against him, I'm stiff as a board in his arms.

God, when the hell did this happen? It's no longer _my_ pain keeping me from telling him, it's the thought of causing _him_ pain he doesn't even deserve.

What he deserves is the truth.

"Hey," he smiles against my mouth, nipping my bottom lip. "Where'd you go?"

"I'm right here," I breathe. When I slide my tongue into his mouth, he groans, caressing and squeezing my ass unapologetically. Our hot and heavy breaths mix and mingle, tongues meeting and retreating. I feel his growing hard-on, and I can't help squirming against it, losing myself in the building heat between my legs.

"You want to finish this on the couch?" His minty breath washes over me and makes it difficult for me to focus. Yet in the back of my mind, I can't completely relax because there's that screaming brain. And then the memory of Nessie's concerns with this being her dad's house joins the mix.

Jesus, I need some fresh air.

"We'd better go, or we'll never make it out of this house."

"I have no problem with that." He holds my gaze through familiarly half-lidded eyes, his finger lightly circling my lips. "I'm not that hungry, anyhow." His voice drops to a husky whisper. "Well…not for food."

"Well, I am," I lie, giving him a little push. He concedes defeat and pretends to stumble back a step, chuckling.

"All right, gorgeous." This time, when he kisses me, it's chaste and sweet, and his hands move back up to safe territory.

He does this; he gets us carried away but then allows me to return to my comfort zone. It's like…he sort of gets me.

"Let's go. I'm dying to show you off anyway." And with a grin, he takes my hand and weaves our fingers together.

OOOOOOOOOO

The restaurant is in Harlem; it's actually the place he's been wanting to take me since he arrived in New York at the beginning of the week. It's a southern place his friend and partner, Jasper, has told him about. There's a short wait because he made reservations. While we wait outside in the warm evening air, we talk about Smoky Makeup Girl, the little witch who made me wait an hour and a half a few weeks ago despite my reservations _and_ my Swan Bellies fame.

"And then I showed up and made things even worse," he smirks.

"Well, actually, I think the only reason we were finally seated that night was because she got a look at you."

He rolls his eyes, and we both laugh.

"I told Jasper about that night. He thought it was the funniest story in the world."

"Sounds like he has my kind of sense of humor - sick. Tell me more about this Jasper," I smile.

"Jasper is actually my old college roommate's older brother."

"Emmett's brother?"

"You remember Emmett?"

"Oh yeah, I remember Emmett."

I remember the huge, brawny boy who grinned wickedly at me the day I showed up at the dorm, very eager to let me know exactly where I could find his misbehavin' roommate. Fucker.

"Do you still keep in touch with dear old Emmett?"

"Nah," he says. There's a two-seater bench outside of the restaurant for the waiting patrons. When the couple who arrived before us get called, he takes a seat first, but then he guides me sideways over his lap - careful to keep me off his groin. All the while, his hand rests on my thigh, low enough to be respectful yet with enough pressure to make my hoohah tingle in a way no vibrator in the world could ever make it tingle.

"We were friends through college, but after my divorce, we went our separate ways. He was more Tanya's friend than mine, anyway. I see him once in a while, like when Jasper throws a barbecue or something. He married a girl, Rosalie, whom he met after graduation. They've got a couple of kids in their mid-teens."

"You mean _he's_ not divorced?" My arms encircle his strong, firm shoulders, and I can't believe how comfortable I am with this man after only three days. "From what I knew of him, and from…the little that I saw, he seemed like the kind of guy who'd be working on his third divorce by now."

"I would've bet the same," he snorts. "But no, no divorce for him; although, from what Jasper tells me, Rosalie has him on a short leash."

"Good for her," I chuckle evilly.

He chuckles too, but then sobering, he kisses me softly, a few successive taps, his tongue just lightly darting and grazing. His green eyes are warm and tender. It's frightening how used to this I could get – how used to it I already find myself becoming.

"We learn, Bella. We get older and wiser, and we learn. It's just a god-damn shame when we hurt the ones we love in the process, when we miss out on...so much."

I swallow thickly, cupping his stubbly cheek while remaining locked in his unwavering gaze until someone comes and announces our table is ready.

OOOOOOOOOO

Conversation flows easily while we dine on red velvet waffles, fried chicken with a side of mac and cheese, and a nice bottle of wine.

When we're done, Edward sits back and pats his perfectly flat stomach.

"Jesus, Bella, I've never eaten this badly in one week in my life! You're a bad influence."

"I don't usually eat this way, either." I pat my own stomach. His eyes follow the movement of my hand, one of his eyebrows arching in interest. "I'm going to have to drag Alice out of her office for at least three hours tomorrow to exercise."

"I've told you, Bella. I've got a much easier and much more enjoyable way for both of us to work off all this food, yet you won't take me up on it."

I'm tempted. God, I'm tempted. He's lethal sin incarnate in those clothes with that body that's obviously still so _hard_ and fit. He allows the hair on his face to grow to a stubble and the thought of how it would feel against my bare skin…between my thighs…

Then there are those eyes that always got to me. When we used to make love, I would keep my eyes on his the entire time, watching them darken and change shades based on how close to coming he was.

Talk about dangerous memories.

I lean in closer, waiting for him to meet me in the middle. When he does, I brush a stray lock of dark hair off of his face.

"And I've told you…I'm not quite ready for that…yet."

He draws in a few uneven breaths, his eyes heavy and lidded, and we remain locked in one another's gaze even as the waiter comes to offer us dessert.

"What do you say, Bella?" he grins, eyes still on me. "Do you have room for more?"

"Can you please bring us a _Swan Bellies Pop-My-Cherry-and-Run-Tart_ to share?" I ask the waiter.

"Let me see if I can find one," the waiter says. "Those have been going like hot cakes tonight."

Edward waits for the waiter to leave before speaking. "Your creation of the day?"

"Yes."

He nods slowly. "May I ask what the inspiration was?"

"It was based on a conversation I had with Alice yesterday."

"A conversation…about me?"

"It seems as of late, most of our conversations involve you in one way or another."

Another nod.

The waiter returns with a small plate, and with almost amusing reverence, he places the tart on the table between Edward and me with a silver spoon resting on each side.

"Enjoy. I snuck one earlier," he admits in a whisper, "and it's truly one of the most decadent tarts I've ever had."

Edward mumbles a "thanks" as the waiter walks away. Meanwhile, I push the spoon into the center of the tart, watching the flaky crust give and the chocolate ganache filling coat the utensil. I make sure that a cherry is on the spoon before slowly bringing it to Edward's mouth.

His expression is inscrutable, yet his eyes seem wary.

"Just open," I whisper.

He obeys, and when I slide the spoon into his mouth, he closes his mouth around it. I pull out the utensil and watch him as he chews.

"They just get better and better." He moves in closer, his warm breath now bathed in chocolate, his hand wrapping around mine on the table. "But is that what you think I did, Bella? Did you think it was just about the sex back then? Do you think that's all I want _now_?"

"No," I say softly, shaking my head. "Edward, I've developed a very wry sense of humor over the years, and it manifests itself in the weirdest ways. Yes, very often, my pastries reflect that, but sometimes I forget others might take me too seriously. I have to…readjust a few of my beliefs, and I apologize if-"

"Hey, don't apologize to me. You've done nothing you have to apologize for." He takes both of my hands the way he did the other night, holding them tightly while his lips plant soft kisses over every knuckle, the moist tip of his tongue darting in between each. Then he repeats it all on the other hand.

"You're shaking again."

"I'm nervous."

"You don't have to be nervous with me. I swear I have no nefarious, hidden agenda."

"It's not that."

He waits. Patiently…openly…he waits. And when it becomes obvious to us both that nothing more will be said, he kisses the inside of my wrists and smiles.

OOOOOOOOOO

The restaurant was all the way up in Harlem, so it's a long cab ride home. We talk about my Swan Bellies expansion, and I love that he gets how thrilled I am about it.

"You know, I've done…a little bit of distribution research for you – nothing major, and this is your company and all your call," he qualifies carefully, "but Anthony mentioned he's been helping you a bit. He says you're looking at L.A. as a potential market."

I nod quickly, the excitement I've been feeling about the expansion pushing away the lump of unease in my stomach due to what I still haven't been able to say tonight.

"As a distribution expert, I can tell you, L.A. has tons of possibilities."

"Yes, that's what my research and Sp- Anthony have dug up."

"Bella, I've got more than a few contacts I can help put you in touch with."

"You don't have to drive yourself nuts, Edward. Jay is on top of the logistics."

His shoulders stiffen. He'd been angled toward me, but now he backs up against the seat. "It wouldn't drive me nuts. Distribution is sort of my thing," he chuckles humorlessly.

I lean in close to him. "Edward, Jay is a friend and a business partner, who-"

"Who wants to be more." He arches a brow, sliding his hands around my waist.

"I've made it clear that I only see him as a friend."

"Yeah well, I get the sense _Family Friend_ has been waiting on the sidelines for way too long to back off that easily."

"You sound like Alice now," I laugh.

"I'm liking Alice more and more by the minute."

"Shut up," I say, and then I surprise us both by instigating a kiss, pressing my mouth to his. His tongue slides in quick, warm and exciting all at once. His hands grip my thighs, circling around, squeezing tightly.

We only realize we've arrived at my house when the cabbie clears his throat.

"Oh!" I chuckle and Edward smirks as he backs away, making no effort to hide the fact that he needs to adjust the front of his pants. "We're here."

Edward pays the cabbie and steps out of the cab to circle around and open my door.

"Hold on for a minute," I hear him tell the cab driver.

I walk up the stoop steps, pulling out my keys as he follows me with a hand resting on the small of my back. He's always been a gentleman in this sense; I've got to give him that. And I see Anthony is the same way with Ness.

We stand by the door, surrounded by darkness except for the streetlamps and the city lights softly glowing behind us.

"Anyone home?" he asks.

I shake my head, having quickly noted that none of the indoor lights are on.

He presses me against the door, hiding me from view with his hard body while he kisses me urgently.

"Edward…" I breathe against his mouth, "Edward, I want to invite you in…I do…but if I do, we'll do naughty things I'm not ready for."

"Oh, we will do those naughty things," he agrees, his voice low and husky as his mouth skims my neck and the rough stubble of his jaw brushes against my ultra-sensitive skin. When he slips a hand between my thighs, my heart almost jumps out of my chest. "God, you feel so ready to do those naughty things."

"Edward…" I drop my forehead to his chest, ready to give in.

But then he lifts my chin with his finger, forcing me to meet his eyes. "But I'm not going to make love to you in there, Bella, in Sam's house, and not when there's the possibility of our kids walking in on us. And…I won't make love to you when I know you're still holding back."

Nevertheless, the hand between my thighs softly rubs and circles back and forth, one finger right _there_ , and I close my eyes, silently begging him to disregard my mouth and just do as Shakira says and _keep on reading the signs of my body._

"Edward…Edward, please…" At this point, I'm not even sure what I'm asking for anymore.

"Tell me, Bella," he breathes in my ear, his finger dipping just inside my panties. "Tell me everything."

"I…I need a little more time."

The finger falls away, then the entire hand pulls back. Edward kisses the tip of my nose, smiling tenderly. His eyes hold mine for an endless moment before he brushes his lips over one eye, then the other, pulling me into him while my heart slows to something resembling normalcy.

"You okay?"

"I will be."

"Bella, I have to get back to California."

"I know."

"I was once so terrified of having so much distance between us…"

The words lie there between us.

He pulls away and meets my eyes. "I'm not worried about distance anymore. I'll come to you, or you'll come to me, and we'll figure out-"

"I can't, Edward. I don't fly."

"What?" He pulls back, smiling quizzically. "Since when?"

"I had a…panic attack on my flight to Paris when I left for college. Ever since then…"

He listens carefully, attentively. "A panic attack? Why would you have a panic attack on your flight to Paris?"

I swallow thickly. My tongue is suddenly a piece of useless, heavy lead in my mouth. A shudder runs up my spine followed by another and then another before Edward pulls me back into his arms.

"Shh," he says softly. "All right, baby. It's all right. Shh, relax." His mouth skims the top of my head, and I picture him soothing Anthony in a similar fashion when he was younger, and the image kills me and fills me with warmth all at once.

He dips his eyes to my level, his voice tender yet full of conviction.

"Bella, I promised not to push too hard, and I won't. I have to leave, and if you can't come to me, then I'll come back to you. But though I won't push, I won't beat around the bush either. Whatever is holding you back, it won't keep me away."

"Just a little more time, Edward."

He cradles my face in his warm hands, and my heart feels as if it's about to explode.

"We've spent the past three days together, and yes, technically that's a short period of time, so I understand your hesitancy. Yes, there are still things we need to learn. But as far as I'm concerned…this time, Bella, we _are_ on our way to forever."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **First, a good friend of mine had something devastating happen to her and her family this week. It's got my own emotions and nerves shot to hell, and I'll be taking off next week to help her deal with it all. This means I won't be updating next week. I apologize.** **I fully plan to be back the following week.**

 **Second, I was going to include a response to an annoying "review" incident I had to deal with yesterday, but then I decided against it. I fully believe in the old adage, "If you've got nothing good to say, don't say anything at all," and I'm applying that to myself as well.**

 **Last but not least, Happy Independence Day and ID Weekend to my fellow Americans! If you don't celebrate Independence Day, then enjoy your weekend anyway! Enjoy your families, and always tell them you love them.**

 **See you back here the week after next.**

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**


	16. Chapter 16 - Travel Plans

**A/N: Hey there! I'm back. Missed you guys. Thanks so much for keeping in touch throughout the week. :)**

 **Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes. (Though I tinker through to the very end, so all remaining mistakes are mine).**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 16 – Travel Plans**

 _October 1999_

 _Nessie's two-year-old legs, already long and strong for a little girl her age, kicked out rapidly, letting her toes poke the front seat. Her excitement for her first airplane ride was obvious in the way she squirmed and giggled in the car seat, which Sam and I had carefully secured between the two of us._

" _Les Américains stupides ne peuvent pas contrôler leurs enfants!"_

" _Nous excusons," I called out to the lady in front, who responded by muttering something indecipherable. When I looked over at Sam, he was holding in a chuckle._

 _I reached out and gently pulled back our daughter's feet. "No, sweetie. We don't kick the seats, okay?"_

" _Okay, Mommy," she laughed, clapping her hands while completely oblivious to the way my own hands trembled around her legs._

" _Airplane, Mommy. We fly to New York!"_

 _I swallowed back another bout of nausea, the thick bile which had lodged itself alongside my racing heart._

" _Yes, baby. We're flying home…to New York."_

 _When the pilot announced we'd reached maximum flying altitude, I lay back against the headrest and closed my eyes, completely forgetting Nessie's kicking feet as I fought the almost overwhelming urge to scream. I'd been fine until that moment - or perhaps manageable was a more accurate description. But now…_

" _You okay, Bell?"_

 _I breathed in and out deeply through narrowed lips – long, cleansing breaths the doctor we'd visited regarding my "phobia" had suggested. Instead of being on an airplane, I pictured myself on a train instead - a high-speed, enclosed train like the ones Sam and I had taken countless times between Paris and London without any issues._

 _Nevertheless, my heart felt as if it was about to pound out of my chest, my palms were now moist and slippery against the armrests I held on to with a white-knuckled grip, and the nausea at the base of my throat rose higher._

" _Bell?"_

" _Just keep an eye on the baby and make sure she doesn't kick the seat in front of her. The woman sitting there keeps peeking back like she's getting ready to lunge and kick our asses."_

" _Les Américains stupides," Sam repeated in a whisper. It was meant to make me laugh, to calm me. His hand tightened around mine._

" _Bella, after this, we won't ever need to fly again," he promised softly. "You're going to love New York; it has absolutely everything you could ever want. We'll start the new millennium there. My parents are only a short drive away, and your parents can come visit whenever they want. Plus, knowing Al, she'll be following us back home soon enough. I doubt she'll be able to bear being away from you and Ness for too long. And if we ever have to go anywhere else, we'll drive; I don't care how long it takes us."_

" _You've always wanted to go to the islands of Hawaii," I pointed out, trying to distract myself from the terror welling up inside...from the memories…_

" _We can drive to California and take a cruise."_

" _Ooh, that'll be just_ _ **perfect**_ _with a two-year-old," I chuckled weakly._

" _So we'll wait until she's three."_

" _And how about your dream of surfing in Australia?"_

" _Meh, I've heard the waves are overrated. Besides, who needs The Great Barrier Reef when you've got Coney Island?"_

 _Sam said something else, but I could no longer hear him over the beep indicating that the "Fasten Seatbelts" light had been turned off or over the flight attendant's announcement that we were now free to move around the cabin. Instead, as I sat frozen and clutching the armrests, struggling to hold down the threatening vomit, I realized something._

 _I'd been preparing for this flight for months. I'd told myself over and over that I could do it, that it had been over eight years, and that I would_ _ **not**_ _panic when we reached cruising altitude. I told myself that it was simply an issue of mind over matter._ _ **I**_ _was in control of my body, and I wouldn't allow the memories of that Seattle to Phoenix flight haunt me forever. It was ridiculous!_

 _But apparently, my faith in my own self-control had been way too lofty._

 _When I opened my eyes, Sam was watching me through blue eyes full of sympathy and hurt on my behalf._

" _I wish there was something I could do - some way to make it better."_

 _I'm not sure what I meant to say when I opened my mouth to respond. I doubt I would've ever confessed the truth, confessed that, regardless of how much I loved him, regardless of how much he loved me, regardless of the fact that he knew it all, this pain, this…emptiness…would never be something he could make better because it would never be something Sam could identify with beyond sympathy and hurt on my behalf._

 _Instead, the bile finished its ascent, and I clamped one hand over my mouth while unbuckling myself with the other hand. Sam called out to me as I ran, but I couldn't afford to spare him a backward glance. As it was, the second the first-class bathroom door slid shut behind me, it all expelled itself over my own two feet and when it ended, I was left hugging a germ-infested toilet and crying into its murky waters._

OOOOOOOOOO

 **Me: You should be sleeping, Edward. It's almost five here, which means it's almost two in the morning your time.**

Setting down the cellphone, I measure out the butter, slowly adding it piece by piece to the flour churning in the Hobart mixer. Out of the corner of one eye, I see my phone light up with a reply message.

 **Him: Not until you tell me the name of today's creation.**

I type out a quick response and return to the butter and flour.

 **Me: What is it with you trying to get me to reveal the name of the day's creation beforehand?**

I command myself to muster enough self-control to wait until the dough is ready before reading the next text.

 **Him: It's an exercise. Humor me with this.**

 **Me: No.**

 **Him: Come on. I'll make it worth your while. (And yes, I totally meant that suggestively).**

 **Me: Go to bed. You're obviously exhausted and talking nonsense.**

Spreading the dough out onto the baking pan, I hear the phone vibrate with another message, but I ignore it until I can get the mix in the oven. Once it's in, I set the timer and walk back to the phone all cool, calm and collected like.

 **Him: Can't sleep. Missing you too much. It's been almost two weeks since I've seen you or touched you.**

 **Me: Edward, you went twenty-five years without seeing or touching me and managed to survive.**

 **Him: You and I still have so much to talk about. Why can't you admit you miss me too? Just say you miss me, Bella, and we can end this torture. I'll book my next flight over right away.**

 **Me: I miss**

I go back and delete the two words, my pointer finger desperately hitting the small 'x,' and all the while I ask myself _why_? Why can't I just open up to him the way he's opened up to me?

I can hear Alice in my brain even as I ask myself the question: _You have to tell him, Bella. It doesn't take a shrink to work this one out._

 **Me: How about I text you later in the morning when I'm done and when YOU'RE busy at work? Let's see how YOU like it.**

 **Him: I'll love it. Never too busy for you. Bella, you're a tough cookie to crack, but mark my words: I'm going to do it.**

 **Me: You're sure-**

"Bella, should we dye the whipping cream yellow to make it look more lemony?"

There are currently a dozen people in my kitchen. At that inquiry, a quiet hush descends over the area. Everyone gasps in shock and stops in his or her tracks to turn and look at me because of what's just been suggested by the new girl.

I lay down the cell phone mid-message and clear my throat, attempting to keep the horror from seeping into my voice.

"No, no dye, Bree. We never use dyes here, only natural food colors from fruits and vegetables when required. In this case, it's not required."

She smiles and carelessly shrugs her shoulders. "Oh, okay Bella. You're the boss!" Then with a giggle and a skip in her step, she returns to her duties as if she hadn't just uttered complete blasphemy in my kitchen.

My ensuing smile may be a tad bit lame and unconvincing, but it's enough to assure everyone that I'll most likely _not_ choke the ever living shit out of New Girl, and enough for them all to resume their respective positions.

 **Me: Edward, I really have to go. My inattention is causing mayhem to erupt in this kitchen.**

 **Him: Mayhem, huh? All right, Bella. Go tighten the reins, but don't think I've forgotten our topic of convo. I'll text you later this morning. Have a good day, gorgeous.**

With a deep sigh, I set down the phone and move on to the next batch of pastries, vowing to keep my head completely in the game for the rest of the morning.

But my head refuses to cooperate, and my mind continuously wanders about a million miles away – or more accurately, about three thousand miles west. Outside the kitchen windows, the warm, late June sun is yet to rise over New York City, yet car horns honk with a pitch and volume that doesn't vary much between sunset and sunrise. Pedestrian voices filter in through the closed glass panes, their words indistinguishable but the adrenaline infused in them is in keeping with a city that never really sleeps.

Inside the kitchen, however, one of my favorite CDs plays in the background.

" _I don't care what you think unless it is about me  
_ _It is now my duty to completely drain you."_ _  
_

I sing along to the song and try not to read too much into the lyrics.

" _With eyes so dilated, I've become your pupil.  
_ _You've taught me everything without a poison apple."_ _  
_

As I think to myself that perhaps, all along, I've been the poison apple, my eyes flash up from the intense grating session I've been holding because I gained a fellow singer on that second line.

The Spawn – shit, _Anthony_ – walks into the kitchen in black sweats, a beat-up UCLA tee shirt, bare feet, and with his blond hair wildly sticking up all over the place. Despite the hour, he grins pleasantly and cheerfully.

"Good morning, Mrs. Laurent." He greets me first every morning before turning toward my kitchen-full of assistants and offering them a friendly, mock salute. "Good morning, everyone."

"Good morning, Anthony," I reply. The rest of the staff also greet him with various levels of enthusiasm based on their ages and/or marital status.

"This is a great CD you've got going this morning," he grins.

"You like it, do you?" I quirk a dubious brow in his direction. His generation's taste in music tends to be shit.

"Sure. Dad used to play this CD all the time when I was a kid." To illustrate, he sings along with the next lines, voice perfectly husky, applying just the right amount of grit in all the right places. His head bobs and his forehead creases while he plays air guitar and generally gets all into it.

Meanwhile, at least half a dozen pairs of ovaries have just exploded all over my kitchen.

Darn, vocally-gifted Spawn.

"Bree darling, we can't have drool in the mix. _Please_ do be careful."

"Oh! Sorry, Bella."

"Just throw out that batch and start over to be on the safe side." Strike two, bitch.

Completely unaware of the week's worth of fantasy fodder he's just spoon-fed my staff, Anthony moves through the kitchen, leaving turned heads and bulging eyes in his wake.

Leaning over me, he peeks into my mixing bowl. "Mm, mm, mm. Now that right there looks delicious, Mrs. Laurent."

"God, yes it does," someone behind me – sounding suspiciously like Bree – whispers.

"Thank you, Anthony," I say.

He smiles and claps his hands together in that _I'm ready to go_ way of his I've come to learn in the past few weeks. "Okay, how may I help this morning?"

I've given up reminding him that Swan Bellies employs enough assistants so that he doesn't need to be up at the crack of dawn to help. It never stops him anyway. What's more, in the few weeks in which he's been in New York, Anthony has become more or less my right hand Swan Bellies man, especially as we prepare for Swan Bellies' expansion into L.A. at the end of the summer. I'm not even sure how or when it happened, but it was all so gradual and surprisingly…quite natural.

For one, the boy is a market research genius. With his and Nessie's assistance, we've narrowed it down to two establishments for the initial offering on the west coast. Jay and I have worked on marketing, advertising, and establishing a kitchen and employees to prepare the west coast Swan Bellies based on our east coast recipes. Meanwhile, Anthony recommended a couple of distributors in the L.A. area, contacts which he'd made while working with his father at Masen & Son Global, and one of the distributors fit our needs to a tee.

Today, Jay and I are scheduled to hold a conference call with that firm to begin finalization of our contract.

So while Anthony helps Michael chop walnuts, we discuss the expansion, and he gives me some pointers for today's meeting. I'm almost tempted to invite him to attend…almost.

But…he's got his internship, and besides, I have to keep a clear demarcation between worlds, which keep coming closer and closer to colliding.

For the next hour or so, _Anthony_ helps out wherever he can while carrying on a charming and engaging conversation with me and the rest of the staff – all who adore him. Nessie usually wakes at about six to help, and though the staff love her just as much, I see their collective sighs of resentment when she strolls in all tall, blond and Laurent-like as she instantly steals away Anthony's attention.

When the timer goes off, Anthony pulls out the latest batch for me and lays it over the cooling rack.

"Mrs. Laurent, every day I swear to myself that you can't possibly top the previous day's creation. Yet every day, you prove me wrong." He shakes his head, grinning and eyeing the cooling bars longingly. One of his hands reaches forward...

He chuckles heartily when I smack it away.

"Anthony Robert Masen, don't you dare touch those! Be patient, and you'll get your morning treats."

"Yes, ma'am," he grins. "Thank God – and you, of course. So what are we calling these goodies this morning?"

"These are Lusciously Lemony Lust Bars."

Out of my periphery, I see him nod slowly. "Interesting name. Wonder what the inspiration was."

This kid and his father – both of them are getting too smart for their own good.

"Yes, well…" Laying down the spatula, I swipe my hands on my Swan Bellies apron before turning to him and his amused, impish grin. "Isn't it time for you to get ready for work? You don't want to be late, Anthony. Lateness is a clear sign of disrespect."

He shakes his head, grin widening instead of faltering at my tone. "I still have time."

"Well, _I_ don't." I walk over to the racks of ready-for-delivery Lust Bars and pick up a couple, carrying them to the counter where I lay them on a paper plate and wrap the plate in cellophane. "As I've told you, Anthony, I've got enough help in the kitchen, and Nessie will be up in a short while to help as well. _You_ don't need to do this every morning. Besides, I have to get ready for that meeting. _I_ for one, don't like being late."

Not even a dent in that maddening grin as he digs his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. "I've never baked with anyone, Mrs. Laurent; it's fun. Now are you sure you don't want me to go the meeting with you? I'll keep my mouth shut; I promise." He pretends to zipper closed that smart mouth of his.

I cross my arms across my chest. "I realize you find this hard to believe, Anthony, but I have managed to run this business just fine for almost two years _without_ your input. I think I can handle it."

He chuckles. "Believe me, Mrs. Laurent, I know you can. It's one of the many things I admire about you."

This darn…Spawn…my chest constricts, and I _know_ he's not doing it on purpose. I know he's not.

"All right, well, good luck then," he says cheerfully. "The people at L.A. Confectionary are great. I'm sure they won't give you a hard time."

"Anthony." I stop and swallow back the almost indiscernible shakiness in my voice before handing him his cellophane package. "You're forgetting your Swan Bellies."

He smiles, taking the package reverently. "Now _that_ would've been a tragedy. I'll go get dressed for work now. Have a good day, Mrs. Laurent."

He turns and walks toward his room to get ready, whistling one of the tracks from my old CD and looking just like his father did a quarter of a century ago. A few eyes follow his retreating form – shamelessly glued to his ass.

"You too, Anthony," I murmur.

And fighting back the sting in my eyes, I swallow through a dry throat before turning a glare toward Bree – who quickly gets her ass back to work.

OOOOOOOOOO

 _Planet Who_ , the agency which handles Swan Bellies' marketing needs, is the agency which my husband, Sam, helped build into the success it is today. It's located in what's come to be known as Digital Dumbo - the downtown Brooklyn area which in the past few years has become New York City's creative capital. Any number of tech start-ups, design firms, photographers, and digital studios take advantage of the neighborhood's abundant warehouse space.

When I worked for them part-time while Ness was growing up, the agency was your typical, successful marketing firm housed in a tall office building in midtown Manhattan. Closed offices, partially enclosed cubicles, and dress-down only on Fridays were the law of the land. Today, it's a "digital media" agency in a modern, open-plan office layout. On any given day, employees' dogs run around, a foosball table awaits play at one end while an arcade room awaits at the other. Floor-to-ceiling windows provide an unbeatable view of the Manhattan Bridge along with the skyscrapers across the river.

Because of the three-hour time difference between coasts, I arrive at _Planet Who_ twenty minutes to eleven for our eight a.m. Pacific Time conference call. The call will be attended by Jay - who is in charge of the overall account, Garrett – the early-twenties tech geek who is in charge of our digital media, and Gianna, who manages distribution in New York City, and who will be working with L.A. Confectioners' counterpart on distribution in L.A.

When I check in with Charlotte, a woman about my age who's been our receptionist for about the past ten years, she smiles at me and asks me how Ness is doing while she calls Jay to announce my arrival.

"He'll be right with you, Bella," she says.

I look down at my watch. "Alright. Thanks, Charlotte."

"So Nessie's liking California then?"

"She loves it," I respond with an eye roll.

"Can't say I blame her," Charlotte says, "with the year-round great weather and swaying palm trees."

"And don't forget the handsome boyfriend," I mutter.

Charlotte laughs. "Aha! Now we're getting to the heart of the matter."

I laugh along with her, and we make small talk for another five minutes or so. All the while, I check my watch because we're cutting way too close for my comfort.

Out of my periphery, I see Jay walking my way. Although the office has become much more relaxed with its dress code over the past few years, Jay has always been a suit and tie type of guy. He clears his throat, straightening his tie as he walks toward me, a small smile on his face. Our personal relationship has definitely suffered since I turned him down, which is a bit upsetting because we've been friends for such a long time.

But we're here for business now.

"Bell," he says, moving in for a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Hi Jay," I smile. Then I look at my watch again. "We should hurry and get the team together. L.A. Confectioners will be expecting our call in five minutes."

Following another throat clearing, he digs his hands into his pockets. "I'm sorry, Bell. I meant to call you this morning, but I've been swamped. The conference call has been canceled."

"What? Why did they cancel?"

"They didn't cancel; I did."

I stare at him for about five seconds, waiting for him to elaborate.

"Why?"

"I don't think they're what we need, Bella, and until I have time to perform more research-"

"Until you have time to perform more research? I already performed the research, and they're exactly what we need."

"Bell, last time I checked, I was in charge of this account."

"Last time I checked, Swan Bellies was my goddamn business."

He reaches out and wraps a hand around my elbow. "Let's go find someplace more private to talk."

I pull away from him. "There's nothing to talk about, Jay." I point in the general direction of behind him. "You go call L.A. Confectioners back, and you apologize and tell them that you made a mistake, and that we need to discuss the final arrangements for the distribution contract."

"I can't do that, Bella. They've moved on to another client – which is fine. As I said, they weren't what we needed anyway."

Somewhere beyond the fury clouding my vision, a small part of me notes that everyone in the office appears to have stopped moving. Charlotte's eyes bat between us as if she's watching a horribly intense tennis match.

"You had absolutely no right to do that," I hiss. "This is _my_ business." I dig a finger into my chest. " _I_ make the final calls."

" _I_ am the marketing professional."

"Don't give me that bullshit. I've got the same degree you have, and I worked for this agency too. I know my shit, Jacob. And Anthony, Vanessa, and I did the research-"

"So now we're taking marketing and distribution advice from college kids? What the hell, Bella? You used to be a shrewd businesswoman. It was one of the things I admired most about you. Now instead of using your head to make decisions," he leans in close, "you're basing them on who you're sleeping with."

I hear Charlotte's sharp intake of breath. She quickly backs up as if she's afraid that my undoubtedly-soon-to-be-delivered backhand may accidentally bounce off of Jacob's face and hit her.

"Charlotte, please call Aro over, and ask Gianna and Garret to meet us here as well." All the while, I keep my eyes on Jay.

"Uh, sure, Bella." She scurries off as if her ass is on fire.

"Bella, I'm sorry," Jay backtracks. "That was extremely unprofessional, but as a friend, I'm simply concerned that you're not making sound decisions here."

In the next half minute, Gianna and Garrett both meet us by Reception, both smiling until they get a good look at me.

"Hi…Bella," Garrett frowns. "Is everything-"

"Were you both aware that Jay canceled today's conference call with L.A. Confectioners?"

"Yes," Gianna answers slowly, clearly confused, "but we were under the impression that you knew?"

"No, I did _not_ know."

"Then why was it canceled?" Garrett asks Jay.

Jay swallows. "Bella, let's all go discuss this somewhere more private," he tries again.

"Bella, is everything okay?"

The voice behind me belongs to Aro, the Agency's founder, a man who trusted and respected my husband implicitly. He comes around and looks warily between Jay and me.

"Aro, the only reason I'm not pulling my account from this agency at this very moment is because my husband put his heart and soul into helping to build it into what it is today."

"Bella, you and Sam have both been an integral part of this agency; no one questions that. What's going on? How can I help?"

"I want Jay off my account starting now-"

"Bella, come on," Jay says.

"and I'll accept Garrett and Gianna heading the account on a probationary basis."

"What happened here?" Aro asks.

"You can ask Garrett to explain that to you. Right now, I need Gianna on a flight to L.A. as soon as possible to fix Jay's screw up."

"Of course, Bella," Gianna says.

"Yes, yes, Bella. We've been friends for a long time, and it's not only your account but your peace of mind which means a lot to us here," Aro adds.

"Thank you, Aro. Garrett, please get in touch with L.A. Confectioners asap and set up a face-to-face. Let them know that Gianna and I will be ready to meet them in L.A. tomorrow. Gianna, I'll call you as soon as I have my own travel plans set so that we can coordinate."

"All right, Bella."

"Charlotte, have a good day."

"You have a good day too, Bella," Charlotte says kindly.

With a sharp nod, I turn around and walk out.

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **I want to thank all of you who reached out last week to offer well wishes for my friend. She's having a really hard time right now, so I truly appreciate the well wishes. Unfortunately, when it rains, it pours. One of my daughter's best friends is going through something a 17-year-old should never have to deal with. I'd appreciate it if you kept her in your thoughts as well.**

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **See you guys on Wednesday!**


	17. Chapter 17 - Johnny Is Kicking My Seat

**A/N: Thanks so much for your wonderful thoughts! Yes, Jay stepped in it, didn't he? ;)**

 *****IF YOU NORMALLY SKIP A/Ns BECAUSE YOU DON'T WANT OR NEED ANY TYPE OF REFERENCE TO WHAT WILL BE IN THE STORY, PLEASE GO AHEAD AND SKIP THIS A/N.**

 ****PLEASE DO NOT READ THE FOLLOWING A/N IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW AT ALL WHAT MAY OR MAY NOT BE COMING UP****

 ****Alright, for those of you STILL reading this A/N, (STOP READING THIS A/N IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW!), I'd like to preface this chapter and the next couple of chapters by saying that I've been through much of what will be touched on in the next few chapters. (I won't name it by name here, but I think we all know what that is at this point). Not saying this to garner pity or sympathy, but just so readers will know that I've been there, and I am not trying to be thoughtless, inconsiderate, or heartless. It's a difficult subject, I do understand that.**

 *****Therefore, for those who'd rather skip the next few chapters but would still like to continue reading the story afterward, just check the A/Ns, and I'll let you know when we're mostly past the topic. Thanks. :)**

 **Chapter 17 - Johnny Is Kicking My Seat**

* * *

 **Edward**

"All right, all right, all right." I stare at the spreadsheet full of numbers, mumbling to myself while I try really friggin' hard to remain focused for more than ten minutes – which has become pretty damn near impossible as of late. "Let's get these matched up, and we're done for the day. We've got work to do on the Mustang, and springs on the garage door to fix."

I'm not sure exactly how much time has passed when I hear Jasper clear his throat. I look up to find him leaning against the doorframe.

"You're singing really loud, man. Jane's ready to bust in here and volunteer to be your own personal groupie."

"I didn't even realize I was singing," I murmur. "Bella told me she was listening to that CD this morning, and I guess it's gotten stuck in my head."

With a grin and his typical slow swagger, Jasper walks in and takes a seat on the chair across from my desk. " _I travel through a tube and end up in your infection?"_

Laughing out loud, I close the laptop and recline against the leather chair, weaving my fingers together behind my head. "The guy wasn't very subtle, was he?"

" _You're_ not very subtle," he retorts.

"That transparent, huh?"

He smirks, arching a knowing brow. "So how are things going with Bella?"

I draw in a deep breath and exhale it through my nostrils. "Well, I'm over here, and she's over there with a shitload of states between us. I'm trying to get her to ask me to come see her, but something's holding her back, keeping her from moving…forward." I stare off into space, wishing I could figure out what's going through her head.

"Maybe she can't get past the cheating incident?"

Biting the inside of my lip, I ponder that one, but I've considered that possibility already. "I don't think that's it. I think…I _hope_ she sees I'm not that stupid kid anymore. It's more like…she's got something to tell me that she can't seem to manage to spit out."

Jasper chuckles. "Sounds like a hell of a lot of trouble for one woman."

I snort, shaking my head. "You don't know this woman. She's strong, smart, beautiful, a great mother, and she's good to my son despite who his mother is and how that must... She's everything she used to be and more, and if I can just break down those barriers, I think…well, I think that this time, we could be great."

"Shit," Jasper says. "What, are we talking long term here?"

"What did I just say? I'm not a stupid kid anymore. Yeah man, long term - as in permanent."

"Shit." He stares at me for a while. "Well, you're right about one thing, at least. We're not kids anymore. And speaking of kids," – he jerks his chin towards a framed picture on my desk – "what's going on with Tony?"

"He's good. Still glued to the hip with his girl, busy with the internship and his own life with Ness – which is fine and understandable. They're branching out, discovering they don't need us as much as they used to. I get it; although, it seems to bother Bella a bit."

"Uh oh. You mean she's a control freak? Better be careful you don't end up like Emmett with Rosalie. Whapeesh!" Jasper mimics the sound and motion of a cracking whip. "That poor brother of mine," he snickers, not sounding like he truly pities Emmett in the least.

"No, no, no." I shake my head vehemently. "Bella is nothing like Rosalie. With her, it's more...dedication," I say, remembering how Anthony described her a few weeks back.

"Dedication, huh?" He nods much more solemnly. "So is she _dedicated_ in bed?" He waggles his brows suggestively.

Jasper's my buddy, yeah, and while I'd normally have no issue with letting him know we haven't actually gotten there yet, this…budding relationship with Bella still feels too fragile to treat casually, as if too much assumption on my part will fracture the growing stem.

And honestly, part of me is still wary of self-fulfilling prophecies.

"Not giving up the deets? Wow, you are serious here," he breathes when a few seconds transpire with no response from me. Then he grins as if he was about to say something else but then thought better of it. "So she's only got the one kid, right?"

"Yeah. She had some sort of condition – cervical…something," I frown, unable to recall the entire term. "She had a rough pregnancy and had to remain on bedrest through much of it."

"Cervical incompetence?" Jasper says. "Where the kid pops out too soon?"

My head jerks back in surprise. Jasper is the last guy I expected to come up with that.

"How do _you_ know about that?"

He tilts the chair back and forth, balancing it on its two hind legs and crossing his arms against his chest. "Maria went through that with the kids. She had to be on bed rest with all three of them. They sewed her up tight with the last two so the babies wouldn't pop out before time."

"Really? She had the three, though. Bella says the doctor strongly suggested she stop after Nessie."

With a loud thud, the chair returns to its original position. "I suppose some cases are worse than others." He hesitates for a split second. "Maria lost a couple of pregnancies before we had Mikey."

"Man, I'm sorry. I never knew about any of that."

He waves off my apology. "S' alright. At the time, it wasn't easy to talk about – especially for Maria. She was terrified of getting pregnant again, regardless of how much we wanted kids. But we got through it, and we were lucky enough to build a nice family despite everything. Although, you always wonder…one kid never replaces another," he muses. "Anyhow, is that what happened with Bella?"

I shake my head slowly, but my heart suddenly pounds in my chest. A strange, nauseous sensation takes up residence in the pit of my stomach at the thought of Bella experiencing something like that.

"I honestly don't know."

"Fucking ironic, isn't it? Bella and Maria wanting kids so badly and having to go through hell to have them; meanwhile, you had to beg and plead for Tanya to keep Tony. Hey, does Bella know that's why you married Tanya?"

"We haven't gotten into that yet. I don't want her thinking I'm trying to sugar-coat everything that happened afterward. Tanya didn't get pregnant on her own, and Bella knows that. I…fucked up…for a while," I sigh. "Made my bed, and I had to sleep in it - and that was a shitty analogy."

Jasper chuckles quietly.

"I'm just lucky I got my son out of it," I say.

He holds my gaze. "Yeah, you were a mess for a bit there. Hey, you know what I was thinking?"

"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me."

"If you and Bella ever decide to try for a baby, that would be fucking weird, especially if Tony marries her daughter. Your kid would be what, half-sibling to both of them?" He scratches his head. "Shit, how do you explain that at parties and get-togethers?"

"Go to hell. Besides, at this stage, with her previous complications and heading a new business venture, I don't know if having more kids is something Bella would ever consider."

"Sounds like _you_ would."

I shrug, grinning at the thought: a child of Bella's and mine…

"We're nowhere near a discussion on babies. And the last thing I'd ever want would be to put her in a position where she could end up hurt."

Even as I say the words, that sense of unease rolls around my insides. Something swims in the periphery of my memories. It's almost as if...as if I just concentrate hard enough, there's _something_ there to grab hold of.

"True enough, I suppose. So when are you seeing her next? Is she coming down to California soon or what? I'd like to meet this paragon of a woman who's had your panties in a twist for a quarter of a century."

"I don't know when that'll happen." I shake my head, fisting my hair again to see if that'll help me get a grip on that elusive _something_ , but Jasper's constant yapping isn't helping. "She doesn't fly; plus, she's in the middle of that business expansion I told you about, the one Anthony's been involved with."

"She doesn't fly? That's strange in this day and age. How come?"

"She had some sort of panic attack on a flight, on her way to college in Paris."

"Paris?" he frowns. "Oh yeah, that's right. You did tell me that's what she showed up to tell you that summer - that she was going to college in Paris."

Out of nowhere, an image of Bella and me standing in a New York City street corner a few weeks back invades my mind.

" _That's actually_ _ **not**_ _what I showed up to tell you, but after what I saw, I had to hurt you back…"_

" _That's actually_ _ **not**_ _what I showed up to tell you…"_

By this point, my heart feels about ready to jump out of my chest. I make an attempt to blink myself back into the present when I realize that Jasper has moved on, but it's as if the pieces to a puzzle are all in my head, and with just some peace and quiet, I'll be able to fit them together.

"…so I guess that would come first. What do you think?"

"What?"

"I said, we've got to figure out which contract to push back next month. We're swamped, man. I was thinking-"

"Jasper, I know this is messed up, especially with how busy we are-"

"You're going back to New York," he says knowingly.

"Just for a few days. I've got to…" I exhale, "I need to-"

"Yeah, I know what you need to do. All this talk of makin' them babies got you ready to go! Mmph!" He pretends to thrust into some invisible woman on his lap, moaning and groaning and making the most disturbing faces.

I stare at him. "You seriously need a girlfriend."

"Nah. Woman and relationships are too much trouble. I'll stick to my blow-ups and leave the real women to you."

He's still humping the air and laughing heartily when my cell phone vibrates, and I look down at the facetime request lighting up my screen.

"It's Anthony."

Still chuckling, Jasper stands and walks toward the door, turning around with one hand on the door frame. "Listen, Ed, you know I'm just busting your chops, right?"

"Yeah, I know. It's what you do best," I smirk.

He grins. "Good. You haven had a personal life in years, my man. You're entitled to one now. Just let me know when you'll be heading east so we can coordinate schedules. And tell Tony I said hi."

"Will do. Thanks."

When he walks out, I swipe and pick up Anthony's call. For a couple of seconds, I stare at a black screen before my son's anxious face appears, brows furrowed, eyes dark. I'm instantly on alert.

"Hey, Dad."

"Hey, Anthony. How's it going?"

He's outdoors, seated on top of a wide set of steps while the typical blare of New York City sirens and horns erupt all around. Rushing hordes move back and forth behind him.

"It's been a crazy afternoon, Dad." He takes a hand through his hair. "I wanted to call you earlier, but everything happened quickly."

My heart, which had been pumping frantically a few seconds earlier, now comes to a complete stop.

"What is it, Anthony? What happened?"

OOOOOOOOOO

 **Bella**

"Bella, I just don't see the need for you to go. Can't you handle it from here?"

The cab stops in front of JFK's Terminal Five. I hand the driver the fare and pick up the carry-on next to me while balancing the phone between my neck and shoulder.

"Alice, it was unprofessional of me to think I could handle it all from here in the first place. Besides, it's my company. I _have_ to be there."

"But you said Gianna is heading for L.A. this evening."

Stepping out of the cab, my eyes warily sweep over the terminal. It's a simple building, which will lead me to a simple vehicle of transportation. That's all it is. Nothing to get worked up over.

With a deep breath, I make my way into the white, steel structure through the revolving doors and past the crowds galore. With every step, I try to ignore the way my heart picks up speed.

"Yes, she is, but after the way Jay screwed everything up, I need to personally be there to assure L.A. Confectioners that Swan Bellies isn't run by total assholes. They were a perfect fit, and with the expansion already scheduled for September first, we don't have the luxury of time to find another distributor which would work as well."

"Jay, that dirty bastard," Alice hisses while I scan the various check-in kiosks until I spy the correct one. "If you're planning on suing his dumb ass, I can be all over that shit in a heartbeat."

"I can't even think about that right now. For now, my priority is getting L.A. Confectioners back on the table. I'll deal with Jay later."

"Bella…you can still turn back, honey."

She's right; I can. There are five people in line ahead of me. I can still turn around and leave. Gianna can run this on her own or I can request that Garrett go with her. Right now, Aro will find a way to lasso the fucking moon if it means keeping my account.

"Wait until tonight, and I'll come with you."

"Next!"

There are four people in line ahead of me.

"Alice, your clients would have a heart attack if you just dropped everything and left for L.A."

"Fuck 'em."

"I'll be okay. It's been over sixteen years since I've flown. I'm sure it won't be as bad this time."

"Next!"

Three in line ahead of me. Nausea rises up into my esophagus.

"Look, I know I told you that you needed to work through this, but I didn't mean for you to bite the bullet this way."

I chuckle weakly. "Isn't that the best way to do things - pull off the Band-Aid in one go? Anyway, I need you to keep an eye on the kids while I'm gone."

"At least take _them_ with you!"

"Next!"

Two in line ahead of me. My heart has now joined the bile in my esophagus, and they've decided to do the cha-cha at the base of my throat.

I draw in a shaky breath before answering Alice. "They both wanted to come, but Anthony has his internship, and I won't let him mess that up. And I need Ness here to help run the kitchen in my absence. Besides, Alice, if I lose my shit up there…I don't want my daughter seeing that."

"Oh, God honey," Alice chokes before going silent. The lone passenger now in front of me looks like he's checking in every single item he's ever owned in his life. It's the perfect opportunity to turn tail and run. In fact, I'm a hair's breadth from doing just that when the kiosk next to the one for my airline opens up for business, and a nice lady in uniform smiles and calls out,

"Next!"

Darn airline would decide to be expeditious and open up an extra kiosk today.

Still, I just stand there.

"Does Edward know you're headed to L.A.?"

"I..."

"Next!"

"I didn't have time to call or text him."

"Next!" the kiosk lady yells, glaring at me, yet my legs refuse to move.

Someone taps my shoulder. "Excuse me, lady. She's saying next..."

OOOOOOOOOO

I am on a fucking airplane.

I'm also frozen stiff with terror.

My eyes make the circuit all around me, enviously watching fellow passengers calmly perform last minute flight details, stow their belongings under the seats and in the overhead compartments, laugh and joke with one another as if they hadn't a care in the world.

There's a kid sitting behind me yelling at the top of his lungs and kicking the shit out of my seat.

"Excuse me, ma'am. Johnny's never flown before. I'll try to keep his kicking and yelling to a minimum, but I can't make any guarantees."

Johnny's mother has wedged her face into the space between the seats to mumble this apology slash warning, but I can't even angle my head the few degrees required to meet her one eye and tell her I could not give less of a shit about Johnny's kicking and screaming. It's the very real possibility that _I'll_ end up kicking and screaming which worries me.

"Ma'am?"

When I still make no answer, she exclaims all indignantly, "Well, excuse me then, miss high and mighty! Hmph!"

Then I feel her pull back at the same time that I feel a sharp kick against my back – which does _not_ feel like it came from Johnny.

Business-class sure ain't what it used to be.

Since I waited until the very last possible minute to board, it doesn't take long for the plane to fill. Seems like not much has changed with plane layouts in the past sixteen years. This one looks basically the same, has that musty, clogging smell to it, and as the engine roars to life along with my heart, I note that the flight attendants still go through the same, basic emergency procedures. By the way, these procedures do _not_ include what to do if your seat-mate begins screaming her head off mid-flight.

I squeeze my eyes shut and moan as the plane's nose angles upwards and takes us up into the clouds.

"Don't worry, honey. The five hours will go by quickly if you try to nap."

Opening one eye, I see the older lady next to me angled sideways, taking me in like she's got a clue.

"It won't work," I say quickly, closing the one eye again.

"Want a Xanax? I've got plenty."

"Makes it worse."

She pats the hand I have currently death-gripping the armrest. "Well, just remember that the chances of anything happening up here are much slimmer than the chances of anything happening while on the ground."

"Those are the statistics, aren't they? Yet sometimes, the most unexpected things occur when you're mid-air, and there's absolutely no one around who can stop them. And so you live with it, and even though you know, twenty-five years later, that nothing could've been done anyway…it stays with you, and you just can't seem to separate one event from the other."

The old lady doesn't speak to me for the rest of the flight.

I'm 0 for 2 here with my fellow passengers.

Still, I meant what I told Alice; I truly did. I don't expect it to be as bad. The last time I flew, the events of that day were less than a decade old; now, it's been so much longer. And although I'm sure I look like a fucking basket case right now, at least I've managed to stay in my seat.

Yet the second we're in mid-air, the second the "Fasten Seatbelt" sign is turned off, all bets are also off.

Bile rises like quicksand up to my tonsils, and my heart pounds. I make a bee-line for the bathroom and barely make it to the toilet before I wretch everywhere. My heart slams so hard against my rib-cage I can practically hear it, and my breathing is short and shallow. I know exactly what this is, and I know that I'm supposed to breathe in and out deeply through my mouth, close my eyes and picture myself on the ground. I know that, unless I want to ruin the flight for a couple of hundred people and be on the news this evening, I'm going to have to get a grip.

Therefore, despite the fact that everything in me screams against it, I go ahead and sit on the dirty, germ-infested bathroom floor. I stick my head between my legs, and I perform all those breathing exercises I was taught long ago.

I'm not sure how long I've been in here when someone pounds on the door.

"Anyone in there?"

"It's…busy."

"Lady, you've been in there for a while."

The next time he pounds on the door, it causes me to jump and bang my nose on the toilet seat. Fucker.

"Excuse me, but this is a public restroom!"

"I'll be right out."

"Jesus," I hear him complain.

The next one to knock has a softer voice. "Excuse me, ma'am, this is one of the flight attendants. There's a line forming out here. Is everything okay? Do you need help with anything?"

Over legs that feel like jelly, I force myself to my feet. I don't even bother washing my hands when I slide the door open.

Sure enough, there's a crowd waiting.

"Are you alright, ma'am?" the attendant, a woman slightly older than me, asks.

"Yes, I just…"

There's something like sympathy in her eyes as she takes me in.

Meanwhile, the impatient fucker who'd initially knocked on the door practically knocks me over in his haste to rush inside. He slams the door shut behind him, and I can't even feel sorry for the fact that he's about to find a toilet bowl full of vomit.

"Shit!"

"Here, let me help you to your seat," the attendant offers.

"I…I can't," I confess. "I'm going to need to vomit again – and again."

Her eyes widen. Yet as she takes a look around the cabin full of staring passengers, instead of forcing me to my seat, she guides me around her and situates me on the retractable seat she used for take-off.

Then she hands me a white, paper bag. "Here you go, sweetie. I'm afraid this is the best we can do at the moment."

As I stick my head into the bag, I hold her gaze and wonder if she's heard whispers. I wonder if there are flight attendant urban legends of caution passed on in flight attendant school of the teenage girl who once lost her mind midflight between Seattle and Phoenix.

"Girl, nowadays, it's not wise to call too much attention to yourself while on a flight," she says quietly.

"Yeah, it wasn't the smartest thing to do the last time I flew either."

The next five hours are among the slowest of my existence. By the time we're ready to land, everyone's eyes are on me warily, and I don't even blame them. No, I haven't screamed, but the sound of continuous vomiting coming from the flight attendant's section has been pretty obvious throughout the flight. And if I don't get off this plane within the next few minutes, I'm going to lose more than my cookies. Flight marshals and the evening news be damned.

By airline regulations, I have to take my seat before we land. Little Johnny's mom allows the boy to have a kicking party behind me. I bare it all with eyes squeezed shut and lips clamped together.

The second the airplane doors open, I grab my Vuitton bag from under the seat in front of me and rush out, leaving loud whispers and complaints behind. Running up the attached ramp and into LAX, I find the first empty corner in the waiting area where I blindly collapse onto one of those uncomfortable, plastic airport chairs.

There, I give in to the hysteria I managed to hold back for five long hours. I know I must be attracting attention, and I fully expect airport security to rush me at any moment. I may make the evening news yet.

When I feel the hand on my shoulder, I stiffen, having no idea how to explain why I'm sobbing my brains out.

"I'm sorry," I begin, "but I…I lost..."

I'm suddenly picked up and enveloped in a pair of strong, familiar arms, set to rest on his lap as he holds me tightly against him.

I have no idea how he's here, how this alternate scenario I imagined in my head so many times in the past is actually occurring.

"It's all right, baby," he murmurs, his voice thick and trembling. He runs a hand through my hair, kisses the top of my head. "It's all right. I'm here, Bella. I'm here."

"Edward," I whimper, burying my face against his neck, "Edward, I lost...I lost our baby."

"I know, Bella," he chokes, tightening his hold. "I know."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **I'd like to thank all of you for keeping both my friend and my daughter's friend in your thoughts and prayers. They're both going through very difficult times. My daughter is both devastated and bewildered. At that age, it's hard to fathom that life can be so cruel. So thanks for keeping them in your prayers. It means a lot.**

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **See you guys on Friday. :)**


	18. Chapter 18 - Anthony

**A/N: Thanks so much for your wonderful thoughts and for your words of encouragement/understanding last chapter. I truly appreciated them all. 3**

 *****Please note: All warnings from the previous chapter apply to this one as well.*****

 **Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes (though I tinker through to the very end; therefore, all remaining mistakes are mine.)**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 18 – Anthony**

 **Bella**

Once I feel somewhat in control of myself, I pull away enough to meet Edward's gaze, but his arms remain locked like a protective cage around me. For a few seconds, we simply stare at one another through disoriented eyes now gateways of convoluted thoughts and newly shared realizations. He swipes a thumb under one of my eyes and then the other, gently wiping away the last remnants of moisture.

"You okay?"

"I will be."

Slowly, I climb off of his lap, and he takes a deep breath, still holding me as if he's afraid to let go. He gets to his own feet and releases me barely long enough to pick up my carry-on and swing it over his shoulder. Then taking my hand again, we leave behind the relative safety of our private little airport space. Out of my periphery, I think I see a few pairs of eyes following us, but this is California: land of eternal sunshine, perfect beaches, hard bodies, and movie stars lurking in every corner. A neurotic woman in her forties who just had a semi-breakdown can't possibly rank all that high on the Local Attractions List.

My hand trembles within Edward's as he quickly leads us through the busy terminal as if he suspects that if he doesn't get me out of here soon, there will be serious hell to pay. He doesn't look back, but his hold never loosens. Instead, he squeezes my hand tighter, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over my knuckles. When we finally make it through the automatic doors that exit the building, I close my eyes and draw in a long, ragged breath. My free hand comes to rest over my racing heart.

"Are you okay, Bella? Is there anything I can do?"

When I reopen my eyes, he's so close I have to look up to hold his anxious gaze, green orbs dark and clouded despite the clear, blue skies above us.

"Just give me a minute to catch my breath."

"All right." He takes a step back, continuously shifting forward and backward as if he can't decide whether it's better to crowd me or give me space. "The car isn't too far."

"Okay. I'll wait here."

He shakes his head quickly. "No, Bella. I'm not leaving you."

"Good, because I'd rather you not leave me," I admit with a weak chuckle.

He offers me his own faint smile, deciding to close the distance between us after all. "I'm not going anywhere."

There's a double-meaning there; I know there is, but seriously, right now, I need to get the fuck away from this airport. A screaming Bella is still a very real possibility. So I tilt up my head and breathe in deeply through my nostrils, squinting what are probably frighteningly swollen eyes against the afternoon glare. It takes a few minutes, but my heart rate begins to slow.

"Okay, I'm ready."

"All right." He pulls me gently by the same hand he's barely released since he found me and leads me across the airline terminal to a parking garage. Once inside the lot, the barrage of questions begins to circle my head.

 _How are you here?_

 _Who told you I was coming?_

 _Where are we going?_

 _ **How**_ _do you know?_

I can only imagine the questions revolving around his head.

We keep to a mutually brisk pace as if at this point, we may both lose it. In the middle of the lot, we stop in front of a sleek, black BMW convertible with the top down. Edward throws my bag into the back seat and opens my door.

"Love the car."

He freezes, looks at me, and blinks. "Thanks." His ensuing smile is forced because yes, Inappropriate Bella has struck again. Seriously, of all the things to say. But I'm beyond nervous. Besides, a public parking lot is so not the right venue to begin the discussion we must now have.

After we've taken our respective seats, Edward bangs the storage console between us and pops it open, pulling out a pair of shades. Then he turns the ignition, and the car's engine purrs, quietly idling in neutral as we wait to pay the attendant.

While the attendant counts the change, his worried gaze finds me over and over. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah."

"Do you need anything?"

"Just to get out of here as soon as possible."

He cups my cheek. "I'll have you out of here quick. I promise."

The second the attendant lifts the barrier, Edward shifts into first, followed by a quick change to second, third, and then the engine revs and roars, tires screeching in our wake.

Through narrow airport lanes which widen into busy streets and past the three massive letters marking LAX, Edward continuously accelerates. The sinewy veins in his forearm protrude with every rapid gear shift. When the air control tower becomes nothing more than a white dot in the rearview mirror, I exhale a heavy breath of relief.

Eyes on the road, Edward's hand creeps between us, finding its way onto my lap and once more wrapping itself around mine.

"Well, _I_ sure as hell have no idea how I'm supposed to get back to New York now!" I yell over the din of the engine's hum and the wind's breeze.

Edward keeps his eyes forward, jaw locked tensely. For a few seconds, it seems as if he has no plans to respond.

"We'll figure something out," he yells back.

"Edward-"

"You've never been to California, right?"

"No. No, I haven't."

He nods. When he doesn't say anything more, I distract myself with the passing scenery. The air dispelled by our speed wraps my hair around my face, blocking my view, so I pull out my own shades and a hair tie. Palm trees sway in the breeze absolutely everywhere: in front of office buildings, alongside stores and restaurants, lining the middle of the road like makeshift dividers.

We head southward with the dipping sun shining its warm rays over our exposed skin. I chance another look at Edward: his hair blows in the wind; natural, red highlights more pronounced in this setting than I've seen them in years. It almost takes me backward in time. His skin glows from the constant sunshine. The Ray Bans shading his eyes in combination with the rest of the picture scream of a laid-back California-boy. He could easily be a movie star.

Yet if one looks closely, one would see his jaw clenched so tight his teeth might crack at any moment. And if one is not careful, one could drown in the agitation rolling off of him in waves.

When the road begins to bend and weave, he gives my hand a quick squeeze before releasing it to shift gears again. With a sigh, I look away from him and lose the little breath I have remaining to the view suddenly before me.

Cerulean waters sparkle in the distance surrounded by tall and willowy palms bowing before its majesty. Massive mansions line the foreground with a backdrop of hazy hills on the horizon. The road wraps around the perfect picture like a bow folding around a gift from Mother Nature.

"Wow," I exclaim loudly enough to be heard over the wind. "Where exactly are we?"

"This is Sepulveda Boulevard. It leads into PCH."

"What's a PCH?"

He side-eyes me for just a split second, busy shifting. "Pacific Coast Highway."

"Ahh, the Pacific Coast Highway. Talk about pulling out the big guns," I smile, recalling what he said a couple of weeks earlier in New York when I took him for lunch. "Well, you've trumped my pizza - big-time."

I see his chest moving around a chuckle and one corner of his mouth edging upward. "I don't know about it trumping New York pizza," he smirks at the windshield, "and around here, we just call it PCH - unless we want to sound like tourists."

The fact that he can still tease me floods me with relief.

"So you're paying me back for all the hell I've given you these past few weeks over your touristy ways."

He laughs, and the sound of it temporarily erases the airplane ride, the nausea, the repressed screams…and the undeniable tension sitting like its own presence between us.

"Edward…"

"We'll be there soon, Bella." He reaches out and slides his hand around the nape of my neck, stroking it quickly before returning to the stick between our seats.

I exhale a long breath through narrowed lips. And although I have no idea where _there_ is, although this lack of control after what's already been a pretty out-of-control day should be unnerving…I feel as if, despite the twists and turns and tension, I'm handing control over to perhaps the one person who can now understand me.

OOOOOOOOOO

The beauty and serenity of the view along the highway slowly work to calm my jittery nerves. For the next half hour or so, we make the rest of the twists and turns in a much more comfortable silence. Whenever he can, Edward reaches for me in some way: squeezing my hand, brushing my arm, stroking the nape of my neck or giving my chin a quick pinch.

We drive past pristine, white estates nestled behind ornate, iron gates alongside huge, Spanish-tiled villas with marble columns and lush, immaculate landscaping. There are a few overlook points scattered here and there where the ocean peeks into view between the magnificent houses. Eventually, Edward pulls into one of these points and parks the car.

Angling himself sideways to face me, he sighs and removes his sunglasses. The eyes which meet mine are dark and clouded and…full of questions.

"Edward-"

"Shh." He forces a smile, which squeezes at my already constricted heart, reaching for the door handle and motioning toward the rocky terrain before us.

"Come on. Take a walk with me."

While Edward walks around and opens my door, I draw in a deep, steadying breath. He takes my hand and helps me out of the car, and then we tread in silence through hilly land dotted with dry, arid earth full of dusty gravel and low-lying shrubbery, moving further and further away from the mansions and the car.

"I'm glad I wore my walking shoes," I joke, staring down at ballet flats and grateful that they at least have no-slip outsoles.

"Don't worry, I won't let you fall," he promises, his arm wrapped protectively around my waist.

"Edward, what are we doing here? I know you don't live around here."

"No, I don't live here. This is Palos Verdes - or PV if you don't want to stand out," he smirks.

He guides me through a somewhat steep, dirt trail winding downward, which eventually leads to the jagged edge of a cliff. When I turn around in a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree circle, all my breath leaves me in one long rush.

"Oh my God," I breathe.

Edward stands behind me, his warm breath bathing my neck. He rests one hand on my shoulder and extends the other one, pointing.

"You see over there?" Green, rolling hills wind upward and downward like a roller-coaster. "Those are the Palos Verdes Hills - a low mountain range on the southwest coast of L.A." He turns me westward and points. "And you see the bend around that body of water over there? That's Santa Monica Bay. It begins here along the PV Peninsula and ends in Malibu." He turns me eastward. "And that inlet over there is San Pedro Bay. It's the site of the Port of Los Angeles and the Port of Long Beach, where the cruise ships dock. And the city smack in the middle of it all is L.A."

"L.A. - the Land of Fame and Excess, as Miley says."

He rests his jaw on my shoulder and snorts, his nose brushing my cheek. "Yes."

"The City of Angels."

"Yes," he exhales, "as the Red Hot Chili Peppers would say."

I chuckle. "So where's the big old HOLLYWOOD sign?"

Now he gives a short laugh and picks up his head. "You can't see it from here, but I'll take you there if you'd like; although, I warn you, it won't measure up to that New York pizza."

"You and that pizza." I shake my head.

His hands rest on my shoulders as I turn back toward the ocean.

"Over there is Catalina Island, and beyond…"

He trails off, but beyond, the Pacific stretches out as far as the eye can see. Gray and white waves crash against boulders and rock formations below us, slamming into the cliff's massive wall. In the distance, a white lighthouse stands at the peninsula's edge.

It's soul-searing in its natural beauty, open and never-ending, and I see exactly why he's brought me here. In this unpolished and unpretentious spot, we're part of the overall bigger picture. We can say anything and know that the world won't be pushed off of its tracks.

Edward's hands slide down to my waist, grip my hips, and he lowers us to the mossy, pebbled ground, settling me between his legs.

For a long while, we stare together to where the water meets the azure skyline. The sun dips further into the ocean, casting an orange glow into the heavens. Edward's arms wrap tighter around me.

"Do you remember when you visited me in Phoenix…for Valentine's weekend?"

He breathes an anxious response directly on the heels of my question as if he'd been waiting all along. "Yeah. We went to a party at your friend, Angela's house."

"We snuck out in the middle of the party and drove around in the old pickup my dad gave me for Christmas to make me feel better about being so far away from everyone."

"Then we found a quiet corner, parked, and made love in the back seat. I remember, Bella." Edward drops his forehead against the back of my shoulder. "Jesus, I remember."

"When you came to see me the following month, I didn't know yet. I didn't figure it out until a couple of weeks later. I guess…my mind was on other things."

"Other things like a fucking asshole boyfriend who should've been taking care of you instead of pushing you away." His voice quivers with the weight of his self-recrimination. "But my God, Bella, _why_ … _why_ didn't you tell me when you did know?"

"I wanted to. You don't know how many times I started to. I'd call you and choke up. I'd write you letters and end up ripping them to shreds." I angle my head sideways, taking in his tense profile as he glares straight ahead at the now scarlet-red sun, his nostrils flared. "We were already on such shaky ground. I was…scared honestly – scared that you'd think I'd done it on purpose to trap you."

His head turns sharply to meet my eyes. "Bella, I was a bastard to you those last few months. I'll own that one hundred percent. I allowed my fears to consume me and close me off, but I would've never…never thought that - no matter how messed up things were between us. My issues were with my own self-worth not with yours." He cradles my chin between his fingers, his chest heaving raggedly against my spine as he whispers intently, " _Never_ with yours."

"The months kept passing," I continue, locked in his gaze. "March became April, and April became May. I was beginning to show – just a tiny bump, nothing that anyone but me would notice yet, but still…"

He buries his face into my neck and releases a long, heavy breath. His arms form an impenetrable cage around me.

"Edward, I had no intention of going to Paris – not then. Whatever my mom said to you was simply her own wishful thinking. I will admit now something I didn't admit then. _Before_ I fell in love with you, yes, I considered it – which is probably what infuriated Mom," I snort. "And yes, even though I was willing to give up Paris for you, some part of me wondered what it would've been like to go."

The confession lingers in the breeze like the scarlet sun lingers indecisively on the horizon.

Edward picks his head back up, his eyes full of an unfathomable anguish. At first, his words come out in a desperate rush. "The other day, I wasn't paying the attention I should have to what you were saying, what you were trying to say. I was so eager to get my own confessions out there, to make you understand how _sorry_ I was, and all the while I had no idea…no idea that-" When his voice breaks, he hangs his head. I reach out and palm his cheek, waiting for him to continue, but…he doesn't.

"Angela's father was an OB/GYN. His practice was in the basement of their house. He wanted so badly for Angela to follow in his footsteps that he'd taught her how to work some of the machinery. Funny, how we as parents are always so ready to decide our kids' futures." My brow furrows with my somewhat out-of-place realization. "Anyway," I sigh, "the day before I flew to Seattle to see you, she snuck me into the basement when her parents were out, and she performed her very first ultrasound. She's since taken over her father's practice – very successfully, by the way. We discovered that I was fourteen weeks along. She even printed out a picture for me. A lot of it was kind of hard to decipher," I recall with a chuckle, "but the basics…" I swallow, "the basics were already pretty clear. And as I stared at that picture, this…this thing that had been nothing more than nausea, exhaustion, and foreseeable problems suddenly became…real. And I couldn't wait any longer to tell you, even though you were supposed to come in a couple of days. I decided that…however you reacted didn't matter. This was my baby…our baby. Our… _son_."

A muffled sound erupts from deep within Edward's chest. When he drops his head to my breast, I stroke his hair and brush my lips across his temple.

"A boy," he mouths over my heart.

"A boy," I echo, "and in my heart, I named him. I gave him a part of his father."

An endless moment transpires before he sucks in a sharp breath and breathes into the wind,

"Anthony."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **A special thanks to all my California girls on facebook who helped me get the "local" parts of this chapter straight. I probably still screwed it up, but it's probably better than it was before you girls offered your knowledge. :)**

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **Have a good weekend, guys. :)**


	19. Chapter 19 - Forgiveness

**A/N: Thank you so much for all your wonderful thoughts, and for the stories you've shared with me these past couple of updates. I truly appreciate your trust with both this story and yours. :)**

 *****If the subject matter is a trigger, you may want to return AFTER this chapter*****

 **Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

 **Chapter 19 - Forgiveness**

* * *

 _May 1991_

 **Bella**

" _Ladies and Gentleman, welcome to American Airlines Flight 643 with nonstop service from Seattle, Washington to Phoenix, Arizona…"_

 _The pilot's introduction droned on and on endlessly. I pushed my head back against the cushiony headrest and tried to close my eyes, yet every time I did, I saw you…and her…_

 _Of course I'd tell you; I had to. There was no other choice. It's not as if it was something I could very well keep hidden from you forever. Eventually, you'd learn of it somewhere. My mom, for example, would most likely show up at your dorm to rip you a new one for ruining my future, or some such dramatic accusation, as soon as she found out. My dad would show up to shoot you. If by some miracle, you happened to survive them both, then some obscure, mutual acquaintance you'd bump into five, ten, fifteen years down the line would inadvertently let the cat out of the bag._

" _Oh hey, Edward, what's up? How's everything going? I saw Bella the other day, and boy, does your son look just like you!"_

 _How awkward would that be for all involved?_

 _As for Paris…_

 _Under different circumstances, Paris would've probably been a great idea right about then - a way to put as much distance as possible between you and me. After all, you had just told me over and over that I should go._

 _Now, me leaving the country, especially for college, would most definitely be out of the question. Instead, I'd have to pick a college close to home. I'd have to work out child care, find a job to pay for that child care, a way to pay for diapers and bottles and…_

 _and I rubbed my stomach. "It's okay," I whisper-smiled to the little boy within, to little Anthony. "We'll be okay."_

 _This time, I'd just go ahead and tell you over the phone or preferably, in a letter: a blunt, concise, and unambiguously-worded letter:_

 _ **Dear Fuckward, I'm pregnant. Nothing is required of you that you're not willing to give. You may now return to your regularly scheduled fucking. Sincerely, Bella Swan.**_

 _Or something along those lines. Either way, this time, I'd find the words which had eluded me every other time I'd tried to tell you…but not just yet. At that moment, all I wanted was to close my eyes and forget everything, even if just for a short while - for the remainder of the three-hour flight, at least._

 _Some time later, I startled awake to a chiming ding above me._

" _Ladies and Gentleman, we've reached our maximum cruising altitude, and you are now free to unfasten your seat belts and move around the cabin…"_

 _I'd awoken with my hand still protectively wrapped around my stomach, yet while I'd been sleeping, the dull ache I'd felt all day low in my belly had grown and spread, magnified itself throughout my entire midsection. I realized that in my sleeping state, I'd been stroking the cramps that I'd tried to ignore all day. For a while, the pain in my heart had actually served a purpose by allowing me to push back the other, more urgent ache. But now, that original pain had grown too sharp to pretend it wasn't there._

 _Just then, a familiar wave of nausea hit me. Quickly unbuckling myself, I ran for the bathroom, hoping to make it before the bile came up._

 _A loud gasp as I sprinted down the narrow aisle instinctively made me look back. She pointed at me, and I followed the direction of her finger…vomiting right in the aisle before I screamed._

OOOOOOOOOO

 **Edward**

"Jesus."

Bella's spine remains straight as an arrow pressed against my chest, her voice calm even as a shudder runs through her - the only outward sign of her distress. Her hair flutters against my face as she tells the story of how we once made a life together…and lost it before it ever really began.

And I didn't know.

The sun sets and disappears low into the gray Pacific while she sits between my legs, facing forward while staring stoically at the darkening horizon. With the approaching twilight, the breeze picks up and whistles a haunting tune through the strands of Bella's long hair as if it knows. It understands what's been lost:

A son. A son I never knew. _Anthony_. A boy I've been in complete ignorance of for the past twenty-five years. A boy I've denied the love, the respect, and the mourning he deserved.

I didn't know.

I've spent twenty-two years trying to raise a boy into a man. I've tried to guide him through my mistakes in the hope that he wouldn't repeat them, in the hope that my transgressions would serve as a learning experience so that I could look back someday and say:

 _ **This**_ _, I did right. I may have fucked up everything else, but_ _ **this…**_ _this role as father and guide is one I've honored to the best of my ability from beginning to end._

And I've been proud of my success. I've looked at my son, and I've felt nothing but pride in what I've accomplished, self-satisfaction in my own role at the man he's become.

And all the while, I'd already irrevocably dishonored that role by dishonoring _him:_ _Anthony -_ my first son.

I dishonored him from the very first moment of his creation when I wasn't man enough to care for his mother the way she needed- no, the way she _deserved_ to be cared for. I dishonored him by continuously hurting her while she carried him. I dishonored him when she walked in and saw something I should've _never_ allowed to happen, regardless of what the fuck I'd been smoking. I dishonored him when I allowed her- when I _told_ her to leave. I dishonored him when she got on that flight without me.

I dishonored him by not being there for him…ever.

But I didn't _know_.

Yet even as those words circle through my head in a self-preserving attempt to justify my absence, I _know_ that "I didn't know" isn't enough. It's a damn hypocritical excuse is what it is because I _should've_ known. A father should have known. A man who loved the way he should have loved…

I lift Bella by the hips, setting her onto my lap. She shifts, turns, and meets my gaze, and for two seconds, I'm not even sure what I mean to do or say. A bewildering combination of anger, pain and remorse flood me from all sides. A thousand emotions swim in her eyes as well: that same pain, anger, and remorse…but also…a defiant strength, and more than anything…love. A love for our little boy so intense that it rips my insides to shreds, and when she pulls me into her arms…I break like a fucking dam.

"Bella, I'm so sorry. Jesus, I'm so sorry."

I crush her against my chest, holding her as tight as I can with the irrational need to keep her and our son safe within my arms. Yet even as I do so, the rational part of my brain reminds me that it's too late - way too late…twenty-five fucking years too late.

"Oh Jesus, God, I'm sorry."

"Shh. Shh." She slides her hands through my hair, stroking my scalp as I bury my face into her warm neck and squeeze my eyes shut. "Shh. It's okay," she repeats, whispering quiet words while I mourn for a life that never was and breathe apologies which I fully realize will always be woefully insufficient.

"I'm so sorry. My God, Bella, I'm so sorry." _Anthony…my son, I'm sorry_.

"Edward, it wasn't your fault."

I pull back and meet her dark gaze.

"Don't say that." I shake my head furiously. "We both know it's my fault. The stress of those months…the thing with Tanya… _I_ caused it, Bella!"

She opens her mouth right away, but the words that fall out do so in a slow, measured manner.

"Edward, I blamed you for a long time, even though I knew…" she sighs. "All these years, it's been difficult to separate one event from the others when they all occurred so closely together, but…" she draws in a deep breath before nodding, a small wistful smile appearing on her beautiful face, "here with you now, I see it clearly, Edward, and it _wasn't_ your fault."

I wrap my hands around her arms, and my words seep through gritted teeth. " _I_ should've been by your side, caring for you, and instead, all I did was stress you out. And then…my God what you saw. I practically killed him, Bella." My voice breaks with the realization, heart constricting painfully with the horrible truth of those words. "I might as well have-"

"Stop," she commands, holding my face between her hands and forcing me to hold her gaze. "Listen to me, none of that caused it."

"Bella, I'm not an expert, but I know what the stress of what you saw did to you…and to him."

She rolls her eyes. "In a novel or a movie, perhaps, but this was real life, and in real life, I have a _condition_. My stupid cervix is a weak piece of shit, and after a while, it just couldn't hold his weight. No matter what, we would've lost him because back then, I just didn't know," she says shakily. "I'd begun losing him even before I boarded the flight to Seattle that day."

I inhale sharply, crushing her to me once more. "God, baby. I'm so sorry. I should've been there. No matter what, I should've been there."

She rests her head on my shoulder and thankfully doesn't try to absolve me of that because there's no refuting the truth of it.

"Edward, you didn't know." She sighs, her warm breath on my neck. "You simply didn't know."

"That's not good enough. If I would've been the man I should've been for you, if I wouldn't have acted like such an asshole and made you think you couldn't even talk to me about our own-"

Her head whips up suddenly, and she pulls away while her hands grip my shoulders and give them an angry shake. "Edward, there are no _ifs_ right now that'll take us back to those days." She huffs impatiently. "What if I would've never mentioned Paris – never put that out there as a possibility? Do you think I haven't thought about that ever since you told me how scared that made you? Do you think I haven't wondered how that would've changed things?"

I swallow thickly, imagining a scenario where the possibility of Paris separating us had never existed. Would that have made me a better man? Or would there always have been a fear lurking in my immature heart of losing her to something better?

The problem was with me…not her. I was an insecure bastard, selfish with her love, and if Paris hadn't existed, I would've found something else to be jealous of. I simply didn't know how to love her back then, and in the end, I did lose her…and our child.

"I should've never allowed that to eat at me, to consume me the way it did."

"Okay," she says defiantly. "What if I would've opened up to my parents sooner and gotten prenatal care earlier? Would they have caught it then?"

"If I would've been there with you-"

"It wouldn't have changed the outcome, Edward," she says with finality. " _Ifs_ and _I should'ves_ wouldn't have changed anything. This condition, the way it's usually diagnosed is by the loss of a pregnancy past the first trimester. If you would've been there with me, perhaps I would've had your support, but we still wouldn't have had our baby. And what do you think that loss would've done to our already shaky relationship? We were kids, Edward, just learning to be in love, sexually active and not always responsible about it. We were both simply insecure the way kids tend to be. It was a recipe for disaster."

"I should've been there. I would've grown up and taken care of you." No matter what she says, I know that much is true.

"Yeah, you should've. But we fucked that up together, Edward. I should've told you when I first found out. It's taken me…" she lifts her face to the darkening sky, and closes her eyes for a few moments. "It's taken me a long, long time to see that." She returns moist, glassy eyes to me. "But I was so angry at you. At that point, going to Paris became my idea, not my mother's."

I swallow thickly. "She never told you, did she?"

Bella's brow furrows. "Never told me what?"

"She never told you that I went to Phoenix at the end of that summer looking for you. I was going to…I was going to get on my hands and knees and beg you to forgive me for everything."

She stares at me wide-eyed. "No," she breathes. "No, I never knew."

"You'd already left for Paris, and she pleaded for me to leave you alone saying you were already fitting in perfectly and loving it, and I'd already ruined things enough. I thought she was referring to the whole thing with Tanya…she never mentioned the baby. And I was such a fucking mess at the time that I believed her."

Bella shakes her head. "My God. I had no idea. It seems my mother and I are overdue for a talk."

"Bella, had you known I came looking for you, would you have forgiven me - after what you'd just lost?"

She holds my gaze and slowly shakes her head. "No. No, not then."

"Then don't fight with your mother. The problem was me, Bella, not her. Besides, I see now why the sight of me infuriated and terrified her. I _was_ ruining everything for you."

"So it was okay for her to interfere?" She quirks an angry brow. "That notion seems a bit hypocritical after what we've been discussing all summer in regards to our kids."

"I don't know, Bella," I shake my head, glaring at the space between us and taking a deep breath. "I don't know anything right now. Why didn't you _ever_ reach out to tell me?"

"Because," she shrugs, "at that point, there was nothing binding us together any longer."

"Except a _life_ we made together, Bella. That bound us together forever."

For a long while, she simply holds my gaze, her eyes dark and unreadable.

"Maybe the loss wouldn't have been what finally tore us apart but what finally brought us together."

"And then what?" she says softly. "What about _your_ Anthony and _my_ Nessie? A few weeks ago, you told me _no regrets_ , remember?"

"There are regrets, Bella," I nod vehemently, my nostrils flaring. "There are. Anthony is my pride and joy, but one child _doesn't_ replace another."

"Do you think _I_ don't know that?" she says defensively. "Do you think it didn't hurt to know that I had to lose him to know about this condition so that I could be ready when Nessie came along? But had things not happened the way they did, neither Anthony nor Nessie would exist right now."

"And so we take that as justification for losing him? We forget about the life we once made together?"

"No, Edward, of course not," she snaps. "I've never forgotten him. I've pictured him all throughout my life: as a little boy, as a teenager…as a young man, which is why seeing Anthony, _your_ Anthony…" She swallows and drops her eyes to the space between us, frowning at the ground.

When her head shoots up sharply, her eyes are wide as if she's just been struck by a sudden realization. She claps a hand over her mouth.

"Oh my God, you're right, Edward. You're right. I should've told you. Even afterward, I should've told you."

I reach out and cup her cheek, her pain warring with my own.

"I've had twenty-five to make peace with the loss. Twenty-five years to mourn him, to turn him into a little boy with your hair and your smile and my brains," she smiles. "In my imagination, he would've been so smart that Harvard would've begged him to attend there. So selfless that he would've traveled the world with _Doctors Without Borders._ He would've become a brilliant scientist who won the Nobel Peace Prize for solving world hunger. And then…I had time to realize that his job was less worldly, yet just as important: his job was to watch over all of us. And that includes you – his _father_."

A strangled sound escapes me, and I squeeze my eyes shut again, my throat too dry to swallow.

"I didn't realize that, Edward. And you…you haven't had a chance to see all this," she sobs quietly. "Oh my God, you haven't had any of this, and I'm sorry. I didn't realize until now that you'd need all this as well. In my mind, I've kept you this immature, cheating nineteen-year-old for all these years without allowing for the possibility that you'd grow up, and that no matter what, you'd one day be a father yourself, and a great one at that."

Images of Anthony - my Anthony from his birth to the present - bombard me: the nurse handing him to me in the hospital, all red and swollen with healthy screams, his strong legs holding him up on the chair as we sang him Happy Birthday when he turned one, the crooked grin he turned around and gave me before walking into his kindergarten class on the first day of school, baseball games and broken arms and teenage fights and…

and all things which Anthony…our Anthony…never had, things Bella never had a chance to share with him, things I never taught him to do.

I cradle her face in my hands, shaking my head, "I thought I was a good father, but now…"

"You are, Edward. Please don't let this make you doubt that. I've seen it in the past few weeks - pretty begrudgingly, I might add. At first, I refused to allow for the possibility, but from what I've learned of you, even more…from what I've seen in _your_ Anthony," she smiles through her tears, "you're a great dad. Your son is a wonderful young man, and it's been hard for me," she admits, her bottom lip quivering, "but I can say it now. I can admit it to you and to myself. He's just what I would've imagined our Anthony being."

"Bella." I pull her back into my arms and hold her while she releases the pain she's held back since my son walked into her life a few weeks ago.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know he was a reminder of… I thought it was because of who his mother-"

She pulls away suddenly and stands quickly, walking to the edge of the cliff. The waves crash against the boulders below. Wind whips up her hair as she wraps her arms around herself, and she looks so much like a vision I would've dreamed up a year ago while sitting here by myself.

I approach her slowly, rocks and gravel crunching under my feet. She shivers when I wrap my arms around her and pull her against my chest.

"I haven't been very nice to your son, Edward," she admits with a humorless chuckle. "In fact, I've been pretty much a bitch to him."

"Bella, you've been doing something right, because my son thinks the world of you."

I can't see her face, but she releases a long sigh. For a while, we stand there silently, lost in our own thoughts.

 _Anthony_.

She's wrong. He would've been more like her with her dark, sparkling eyes and hair more her rich shade than mine. He would've had her strength and her wry sense of humor. He would've been Anthony's big brother, except…except she's right: _Anthony Robert Masen_ wouldn't have existed.

I look up at the sky and growl. "God, how do we make sense of this?"

She turns in my arms and looks up at me, resting her hands on my waist. "Slowly, Edward. We make sense of it slowly."

When I finally find the courage to meet her eyes, she's watching me carefully.

"Now that you know all this, do you still think we can save what's left of this batch, or have we burned it beyond redemption? Do you still think we can begin again?"

I think back to what she told me a few weeks ago, that she'd pictured herself starting over in a much simpler relationship. At the time, I thought I knew what she meant. The last time she'd seen me, I'd been a selfish, self-absorbed nineteen-year-old, and I thought months of that behavior coupled with one stupid incident which should've never happened were the biggest obstacles for us to overcome.

Yet there's no hesitancy when I pull her against my chest or when she yields and slides her arms around my hips.

"Bella, my head is a mess right now, but there are a couple of things I'll never question – and you're one of those. I'm sorry. I'm sorry because all these years…I've had no idea of the level of pain I left you with, but I know it now because to me…it feels as raw as if I've just lost him."

She squeezes me tightly. "I'm sorry too, Edward. But maybe now…"

I pull away, cradling her chin between my fingers, waiting for her to lift her face to me.

"Maybe now…" I continue for her, "I _can_ be there for you."

"We can be there for one another," she smiles.

Silently, her eyes remain locked on mine, and when I press my lips to hers, she responds before I brush them over her eyes, her cheeks, her neck, her heart, and then to the beautiful womb which once held our son.

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**


	20. Ch 20 Land of Stars and Not-So-Stars

A/N: **Thank you all so much for your wonderful thoughts. :)**

 **Yes, I know I've been late these past few updates! Sorry! I'm just balancing a whole lot of** effin **balls in the air at once, lol! (Let's hope I don't drop any!)**

Betad **by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 20 - Land of Movie Stars and Not-So-Movie-Stars**

 **Bella**

As we drive down the darkened roads of the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH as Edward warns me to call it if I want to avoid stares), frothy swells rise and ripple parallel to our weaving route. They break against the seawall as if summoned by the ascending full moon, which glows like a beacon in the night sky.

It's strange. Despite how mentally and physically exhausted I am from one of the longest ass days I've had in recent memory, I also feel relieved - reinvigorated…cleansed. More than anything, I feel free, unencumbered by a truth I've kept to myself for far too long. Yes, Alice, Sam, and my parents knew of him, but they didn't _know_ , not the way only I could know of him…deep within my heart.

Now, I feel as if I've freed my son… _our_ son, who no longer needs to live solely in my memory: a tiny soul remembered and loved only by his mother. I've freed him from the lonely confines of my head, and I've given him the gift of his father. In doing so, I've also gifted Edward with another son.

It's not the easiest gift to accept; I do know that. It's a gift that'll hurt for a while until Edward finally recognizes that _our_ Anthony wasn't the type of gift we were meant to hold in our arms; he was meant for our hearts. It took me time to understand that, and it'll take Edward time, and all I can do is be there for him as he processes everything.

I look over at Edward quiet and thoughtful as he sits in the enclosed space of the car. His eyes are focused on the road; though, I know his mind is probably a million miles away, still playing with thoughts of _should'ves_ and _what ifs_. Forgiving himself will also take time.

He shifts gears, and I reach out to wrap my hand around his on the stick. "Are you okay?" Now it's my turn to check on him.

He keeps his eyes on the route but acknowledges me with the half-smile my dreams have recreated in our son. Flipping over his hand, he weaves his fingers through mine and brings them to his lips, kissing my knuckles.

"Don't worry about me, Bella. I'll be fine." Then with a sigh, "So tell me exactly what happened this morning?"

"Well apparently, you know some of it. I take it Anthony gave you a call?"

He glances at me quickly, brow raised. "Yeah, he relayed the basics: _Family Friend_ screwed you over by canceling your deal with the L.A. distributor before a contract could be signed." His teeth clench audibly. "And now you're flying cross country when you abhor flying, scrambling at the last minute to try to get them back to the table."

"Well, there you go. You know what happened."

He exhales through flared nostrils. "Give me the details, please."

I draw in a deep breath, shaking my head as I release it. "Edward, at the moment, I don't have much more than that to tell. Jay canceled negotiations with L.A. Confectioners because he didn't think they were the right fit."

Edward frowns darkly at the windshield. "Have you given _Family Fucking Friend_ complete control over your account to make those sort of decisions?"

"No! Of course not! Trust me, I'm not the type of person to do that."

"Oh, I never thought you were. You've never been the type to hand over the reins." There's a tense undercurrent layered somewhere within that statement. Once again, he side-eyes me. "Look, I know the people at LAC. We've used them as subs on a couple of contracts. After I spoke with Anthony this afternoon, I gave them a call."

Pressing my lips together, I count to five before speaking and saying something I know I'll regret. "Edward, I'm tired and a bit emotional at the moment, so I'll apologize off the bat if this comes off bitchier than it's meant, but under normal circumstances, this is the sort of thing which would piss me the fuck off. I appreciate the sentiment which had you make that call, I really do, but I've given Anthony the green light to work with me on this, not _you_. However…" I qualify, "at the moment, I'm desperate. I really need those guys back at the table."

"And I knew very well that under normal circumstances, this is the sort of thing which would piss you the fuck off, which is why under normal circumstances, I would've kept my nose out of it and allowed you to fall on your perfect little ass. However, I know you're desperate, and I know you need those guys back at the table."

He gives me a quick glance, and we both break out into a tension-clearing round of laughter. When the chuckles die down, I shake my head.

"Okay, along with everything else, we've gotten our caveats out in the open. So what happened with LAC?"

He smirks at the windshield. "They've spoken to Gianna from your group, and they've informed her they'll attend a face-to-face tomorrow morning at eight."

"Yeah, I just read a text from her confirming our meeting for eight tomorrow."

"Bella, they don't plan to give. They've all but signed on for another job."

"But they'd all but signed on with us!"

"You're a new contract with a new business, and that comes with a lot more associated risks. The other job they're eyeing is a re-sign with an established brand."

"Fuck." My shoulders fall in disappointment. "What the hell do I do now?" Frustration burns like a powder keg through me, reigniting my fury with Jay. Boy, if I had that asshole near me…

Edward gives my hand a comforting squeeze. "Well, the good news is they're willing to meet with you, which means that, despite what they're saying, there must be something which they may be willing to do."

"Like what?"

"Bella…Anthony made a mistake here. He regrets it, but he's still learning, which I suppose should be taken into consideration."

"What are you talking about, Edward?"

"When he put you in touch with LAC, it was his job to see that connection all the way through – from beginning to end whether you decided to sign with them or not. It's what we do."

"Edward, that's my fault. Jay has always been in charge of my account, with my final okay, of course," I add. "Once Anthony got us in touch with LAC, I left the rest of the negotiations up to Jay and the rest of the group and focused mostly on the product end. That was entirely my mistake."

Edward shakes his head. "Regardless, as I've taught Anthony, in business as in most things in life, when you start a ball rolling, you follow it through to the end. You don't hand it over to someone else hoping he or she finishes the job you were too much of a-" His jaw clenches closed almost audibly, scowling at the windshield.

I get the feeling his mind isn't completely on business.

"If that's the case, then both he and I dropped that ball, Edward."

"Then you both did," he concedes. "Now it's time for you both to pick up that ball. You flew over here…" – he pauses and shakes his head as if he's still puzzling over that one – "and Anthony will Skype into tomorrow morning's meeting."

"But that's eleven a.m. east coast time. He'll be in the middle of his work day."

"He'll manage. He's up at five most mornings to bake with you anyway, right? Tomorrow, he'll go into the office earlier so that he can request an early lunch."

The boy's dedication to Swan Bellies is...humbling, to say the least. So of course, I say something totally inappropriate to disguise how utterly bewildered such dedication leaves me feeling.

"Jeez, he's told you about the early morning baking as well? Why don't you tell me what he _hasn't_ reported back to you? Maybe that would be a shorter list."

Edward puts the car in park and angles his whole body toward me. Only then do I realize that we've arrived at my downtown L.A. hotel and are now in the underground parking garage of the J.W. Marriott. He chuckles and pulls me into his arms as if he's on to me now, brushing his stubbly jaw back and forth across my cheek as he murmurs in my ear.

"He enjoys it, Bella. Whenever Anthony speaks about you, it's with...the utmost awe and respect."

I swallow through a dry, constricted throat. Darn…boy. When I pull back, Edward smiles softly, but his green eyes seem hesitant as if he's suddenly uncertain about something.

"There are…a few more things I haven't told you. I wasn't sure if they were things you even needed to know, at least not right away, but now..."

"Edward, since when do you tip toe around me?"

"Well, it's getting late, Bella, and you've got that meeting tomorrow. I don't know if you want to get into it right now. It's been a...trying day, and you need to keep your head in the game."

"My head _is_ in the game."

He smiles and slowly dips his mouth to mine, soft brushes of his lips back and forth. " _After_ the meeting," he repeats, quietly yet firmly.

And the truth is, I am exhausted and most likely not ready for more revelations right about now.

"Fine, fine. After the meeting."

"Now," he grins down at me, "all of this isn't to say that this isn't your deal to handle completely at your discretion. If you'd rather not have Anthony connect io the meeting tomorrow, let him know. If you want him in on the call but then you want to hand everything back over to your marketing group, let him know. When he became your LAC contact for preliminary negotiation, then that was an agreement in and of itself. He should've followed through, and in not doing so, well that loss of contact is on him. Once those preliminary negotiations are complete, then that agreement can end."

"Edward, it's on _me_ ," I confess, pulling out of his arms and glaring at my lap, unable to meet his eyes. " _I_ didn't want…I mean, it felt…it was difficult for me to have him involved so deeply, not just in my daughter's personal life but now in my business life too? He's not a stupid boy; he picked up on my reticence, and he simply didn't want to push. This is all my own fault. I was trying to keep my worlds from colliding, and in the process, I screwed myself and excluded Anthony from a business contact he'd made for me and had every right to be involved in."

After a few seconds, I force myself to look up. I find Edward watching me quietly through soul-searching eyes.

Yes, I've been unfair to his son. In the first couple of weeks, I vilified him and attributed all those negative traits I'd associated with his father over the years to him. Then after being forced to spend time with him and admit that he wasn't an evil "Spawn" here to ravage and destroy my daughter's life, I _still_ kept him at arm's length simply because I didn't want to admit to myself that he wasn't only how I'd pictured _my_ Anthony on the outside but also how I'd imagined him being on the inside…yet, I'd no part in making him.

It's only fair that I be upfront about my feelings now. Had it been the other way around, had Edward ever had even half of the negative thoughts about my daughter that I've had about his son, I'd be clawing out his eyes right about now.

Edward draws in a deep breath and moves in to press his lips to my forehead. "Like I said, let's keep our heads in the game." With those final, murmured words, he reaches for my bag and opens his door, walking around to open mine.

OOOOOOOOOO

The J.W. Marriott is part of a two-hotel tower constructed in the L.A. Live Entertainment Complex of Downtown L.A. This is all I know of the hotel Gianna recommended due to its proximity to L.A.'s Financial District, where our meeting will be held in the morning.

As we enter the hotel's enormously open lobby, neutral colors on the walls and lush rugs contrast with bright furniture. When we move closer to the check-in kiosk, it all becomes a melee of sleek, futuristic furnishings, wild lights, and mirrors.

"Interesting," I smile at Edward as I scan the space. "Have you ever stayed here?"

"Can't say that I have," he grins.

We discuss the following day's meeting as we wait on line, and when I'm done checking in and have been handed my room key card, I look over at Edward, who's been standing quietly by my side.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Aren't you…"

"Ma'am, you're all done." The gentleman who's just checked me in gives me one of those impatient smiles. "If you need anything else, please let us know."

I look at Edward again, who simply grins.

There's a line growing behind us, so we step away from the concierge, and when we're out of the way, I stop.

"Aren't you checking in?"

He shakes his head. "No."

"But aren't you…attending the meeting tomorrow?"

Another head shake. "No."

"But-"

"Anthony knows what he's doing, Bella. Yes, he made a mistake, but we spoke, and he's back on track. He'll fight for this contract to the best of his ability."

"Edward, it's not that."

He takes a step forward, wrapping his hand around my arm. The hotel bustles around us, busy tourists, business people, and gorgeous faces hidden behind dark sunglasses crisscross past us on their way to rooms or to restaurants or to the nightlife awaiting outside.

"Then what is it?" His forehead creases in concern.

"I just thought…after everything…"

He takes another step closer, his hand moving up to my cheek to cradle it softly.

"Bella, you practically bit my head off for interfering in the first place." He quirks a teasing brow.

I roll my eyes. "You exaggerate."

He chuckles. "I don't. I'll be back in the morning. Come on. I'll walk you up to your room." When he begins to walk again, I pull on his arm like a petulant child.

"Edward, I know you have your own business to run."

He whips around quickly. "I don't give a damn about that. You want me here, Bella, I'll be here. But I've been friggin' pushing myself on you for weeks." He shakes his head. "I'm not going to push anymore."

I fist his shirt and lift my chin to hold his gaze. "I haven't been complaining."

"Yeah, you sort of have."

We keep our eyes on one another while the hordes move around us.

"You're going to pull away now?"

"No, Bella." He breathes out a long gust of air. "Never."

"Then what? I'm not promising you sex," I say, making us both smile, "but I'm nervous, and on edge, and if you can spare the time…"

He closes the distance, holding me to him and murmuring lowly, "Jesus, Bella, it's not a matter of having time to spare..." He snorts and shakes his head. "I did pack an emergency bag – just in case."

"Then go get it," I chuckle, "and I'll meet you upstairs."

"All right, then. I'll be right back." With a grin and a kiss, he walks toward the elevators we just exited a few minutes earlier which will bring him back to the lower level parking. As he turns around and heads away, in khaki board shorts and a white polo, I notice how his tall, lean frame and broad shoulders command attention even in this town where beauty is everywhere. Yet as I stand there watching him wait for the elevator, I realize that all those eyes on him don't know a thing. They don't know what I know. It's not his outer beauty which makes him who he is. He was incredibly handsome as an eighteen and nineteen-year-old. But now...now there's so much substance behind that perfect face and frame: character, responsibility, backbone, and dedication I would've never imagined possible when we first literally bumped into each other in that restaurant a few weeks back. He's passed those traits down to his son, and I know...I know he would've passed them down to our son.

So L.A. can keep all its movie stars. I'm going to take this man and...and wait a minute, what the hell did I just say? Did I just say I wasn't promising sex?

These are the thoughts running through my head as I watch him with a now much wider grin of anticipation spreading over my face. When the elevator door opens, Edward steps aside like the gentleman he is to allow the people inside the elevator to exit first. A handful of people step out, and Edward prepares to step in. When he freezes, even from this distance, I see the tense set of his jaw.

I follow the trajectory of his eyes and watch as a gorgeous, tall, strawberry-blond-haired woman steps out of the elevator. For one long heartbeat, I think she's one of those aforementioned movie stars until I realize...she isn't.

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Well, she had to show up some time. :(**

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa 817**

 **I woke up this morning thinking it was Friday. I believed it for about the first half hour of my morning. Needless to say, I was bitterly disappointed when I realized my mistake. The good thing is, we've got one more update coming this week. :)**

 **See you guys on Friday!**


	21. Chapter 21 - The Ex From Hell

**A/N: Dun, dun dunnn!**

 **Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts, guys. I haven't had time to get back to many, but please know you all slay me - in the best way. :)**

 *****For those of you checking to see if it's safe to come back, I think it's safe; although, there may be mention here and there of certain things through to the end of the story*****

 **Betad by the wonderful Michelle Renker Rhodes. (Though I tinker through to the very end, so all remaining errors are mine).**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer (who has a new novel coming out! How long do we have to wait to turn that into Fanfiction?). The rest is all mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 21 – The Ex From Hell**

"Edward?"

Tanya Dennis, aka _The Ex_ and my son's _Quasi-Mother_ walks out of the elevator with a slow, confident stride that's completely incongruent with…well, completely incongruent with walking out of an elevator, but that's just her all over. She's wearing one of those workout outfits that's more for show than actual workout – also signature _The Ex_.

Behind her, said elevator quickly refills and just as quickly closes, and all the while I wonder to myself what kind of fucked up twist of fate would find the three of us - Bella, The Ex, and me - in the same city, in the same hotel, in the same lobby, at the same time.

I suppose a Fate which wants everything out there and settled…once and for all.

"Fancy meeting you here." She grins and takes a couple of fluid steps closer to me, her strut always measured for an audience of one or one hundred; she's never really cared which. At almost six feet tall, she doesn't need to strain for her cool, blue eyes to meet mine.

"How've you been, Tanya?"

"Extremely busy. Daddy has become a fucking nightmare to work with, and he's only getting worse with each passing day - goddamn old bastard. I've got back to back meetings tomorrow with two separate clients downtown, and then I've got to be in court in the afternoon, so I figured I'd just stay in the area." She sighs like the martyr she's not. "And you, what are you up to?"

"Busy as well, but I won't complain."

"No, of course not. You've got your quaint little company in your quaint little beach town with no one running you ragged like a fucking workhorse."

"You wanted the corporate life with the corner office, you got it." My shoulders lift and fall in an unsympathetic shrug.

She scowls at me before taking a sip from her AquaDeco designer water bottle and quirking a brow. "I seem to recall _you_ once having big dreams involving law school."

"Yeah, but then I had a son, and my priorities shifted - not to mention the fact that I had to make alimony payments to put _you_ through law school."

"Whatever," she chuckles, smoothing down her long ponytail with one hand. "Don't blame me for your downshifted dreams. You're the one who begged me to keep him."

"If I blamed you for anything at all," I sneer, "it sure as hell wouldn't be for keeping my son. And by the way, _Anthony_ is doing well, in case you're fucking interested." I swallow back the ache still ricocheting in my chest like a boomerang. God, it's still hard to believe I almost had another son by that name. "He's enjoying his time in New York, and things are going great with the internship."

Tanya laughs merrily, throwing back her head so that her long, sleek ponytail swings like a pendulum past her bare midriff. Meanwhile, all I can think of is how I once had to get on my hands and knees and promise this woman the world while at that same moment, thousands of miles away, Bella was probably still devastated from her loss...from _our_ loss.

"There you go getting all indignant and putting words in my mouth, and it only took you what," - she checks the time on her diamond-encrusted Cartier watch (a gift from her father when she made partner) – "forty-five seconds? I tell you how busy I am, and all you can think of is what a rotten mother I am for not checking in hourly with a young man who I'm sure has better things to do than report in to his mommy."

I shake my head and dig my hands deep into my pockets to keep from wrapping them around her neck. "You know, I honestly hope that someday you figure out what really matters – and not just for my son's sake but for your sake as well.

"All right, all right, spare me the periodic _Parenting 101_ lesson." She holds up a palm to halt me while taking another sip from her bottle. "So what brings _you_ here? Meeting with a client as well?"

I draw in a deep, heavy breath.

Since Tanya stepped out of the elevator, I haven't turned around, but I know Bella's eyes are on me. I feel their heat on my shoulders as she watches the scene play out from a few yards away. What I don't know is whether she has any clue who the woman I'm speaking with is. She did only see her the one time. And yes, there was the picture, but it was all so long ago.

Then again, over the past two decades, I've sometimes wondered how _I_ , the stupid, hot-headed kid I was then, would've reacted had the situation been reversed. What if _I'd_ found Bella in a compromising position similar to the one in which she once found me?

Well, first, I would've lunged without hesitation and beat the ever-living shit out of the guy. I would've knocked him from one end of the room to the other, and then as he lay bloody and broken, I would've turned to Bella and made it clear to her just how badly she'd broken _me_.

Second, that guy's face would've been forever ingrained into my memory.

Throughout the years, as I grew older, less volatile, and became a man with real responsibilities and with a deeper understanding of life, I convinced myself that the man I'd become would've reacted differently. He would've had more self-control and dignity – like Bella.

Yet over the past few weeks, I've had to face the ugly truth: my jealousy and possessiveness in regards to Bella haven't diminished much. While I'd like to say that the man I am now would be able to remain calm and in control in the face of an adversary vying for her affection, I've got my reaction to Family Fucking Friend to negate all that. After all, how did I behave all those weeks ago, when I found out that Family Fucking Friend wasn't Bella's husband but a man who sure as hell wanted to try out for that role? I may as well have pissed on her right there.

Matter of fact, after the shit he pulled on her this morning, I'm not so sure I _won't_ lunge next time I see him.

These are the thoughts running through my head in the handful of seconds following Tanya's question. My main point is, displays of hysterics have never been Bella's M.O. She's always had an amazing sense of self-control, regardless of the situation. And the one time she did lose that control…well, I can't even stand to think of that moment right now.

So I open my mouth to inform Tanya that I'm actually here with my girlfriend, fully prepared to disclose her identity and handle the ensuing questions or chaos or whatever the fuck on my own because I will _not_ subject Bella to this woman again.

Therefore, I'm more than a bit shocked and petrified when I feel a warm arm slip around my hips, and a soft hand comes to rest on my thigh.

"Edward?"

It's strange, but every ounce of tension in my shoulders caused by Tanya's presence melts away at the strength inherent in that one word. When I look down and see the calm expression on Bella's beautiful face, I know she's going to be just fine. Tanya has always been mercurial: cool and professional one moment, capricious and temperamental the next.

But Bella and I…well, neither one of us is the same person we were on that fateful day in that godforsaken dorm room.

"I just wanted to give you the other keycard in case I'm in the shower or something when you come up."

As she hands me the keycard, my hand brushes over hers, and I squeeze her fingers, fervently hoping my touch and gaze convey every last iota of the awe, respect and…the love I feel for her at this moment. I _know_ that as calm and collected as she is, this can't be easy, and it's been a crazy fucking day for her to begin with.

"All right, thanks. I'll be up as soon as I get my bag."

"See you in a few." She smiles faintly and begins to turn away.

It hits me then.

Once, a lifetime ago, my seventeen-year-old girlfriend showed up to tell me that she was over three months pregnant with our child. In turn, I allowed her to walk away from this very same triangle believing herself the loser, the interloper…the fool. Earlier today, she told me that what she found in the room and my ensuing reaction didn't cause what happened afterward, that it was physiology and nature and something that couldn't be stopped or controlled. She assures me the broken heart I caused played no part in it.

I'll never be sure of that, and I'll always regret that day from beginning to end even with the parallel gratitude for the son I _have_ been given. And I'll have to find a way to reconcile and make peace with it all.

Either way, this time, there's no way Bella is walking away without knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that she was always the winner, always the better woman… _always_ the owner of my heart.

I no longer make the same mistakes twice.

"Bella, hold on, baby." I take her hand and weave our fingers together, turning her back around - and proud as fucking hell of the way she lifts and holds her head high.

Tanya's cool gaze darts between Bella and me and back. With the quick, killer instincts of a suave attorney, she's the first to reach out a hand.

"I'm sorry, I don't think we've met. I'm Tanya Dennis, senior partner at Dennis & Associates Attorneys-at-law, Edward's ex-wife, and the mother of his son."

Bella shakes her hand, and without missing a beat replies, "I'm Isabella Swan, owner/baker/operator of Swan Bellies Baked Goods in New York City, Edward's ex-girlfriend, his current girlfriend, and the mother of his son's girlfriend."

The elevator doors behind Tanya ding open. A handful of people brush past her as she stands there blinking, finally narrowing her eyes when recognition dawns.

"Bella… _Swan_? Wait a minute, you're not… _that_ Bella Swan, from all those years ago, are you?"

I slip my arm around Bella's waist and lean in, kissing her temple. "Yup, she's _that_ Bella Swan."

I've got to give it to Tanya; she's a great lawyer – successful in all the ways esquires measure success. Yet I've known the woman for far too long to miss the split-second moment of shock in her eyes before she quickly wipes it all away and allows a grin to spread across her face.

"Edward, you haven't told me you reconnected with your old high school girlfriend." She's talking to me, but her eyes are on Bella.

"You and I don't speak all that often anymore, Tanya," I reply sedately, "and when we do, Anthony is the only topic between us."

Still staring at Bella, "Wait a minute. You're Anthony's girlfriend's mom?"

"Yes. Anthony is dating my daughter."

" _You're_ Nancy's mom?"

" _Nessie's_ mom," Bella clarifies.

"Yes, yes, Nessie," Tanya says impatiently. "That's what I meant. Well." She huffs and places her free hand on her hip. "Anthony hasn't mentioned any of this to _me_."

"Perhaps if you got in touch with him more often…" I say through my teeth.

She turns steel blue eyes to me, circling her pointer finger between the three of us. "So does he know?"

"Yeah," I nod. "Yeah, he knows. I had to tell him once Bella and I decided to give our relationship another go."

"And your daughter…she knows?" She looks at Bella.

"Of course."

"I see. Well." She snorts, lifting her stenciled brows high. "I'll admit to having been caught a bit off guard here. In my line of work, that's an inconvenient occurrence indeed…and thankfully, a pretty rare one."

Again, she looks between us, shaking her head and chuckling.

"You've aged well, Isabella Swan."

"Thank you. So have you."

"Divorced?"

"Widowed."

"Hm." She stands there expressionless for a few seconds, but I know she's using the time to measure her next words. Which is why when she leans into Bella, the arm I have around her waist instinctively tightens.

"Well I'd apologize for what happened that day, but it was long ago, and we were just stupid kids."

Again, Bella replies without pause. "Yes, it was long ago, and no apology is requested or required."

"Good," Tanya grins. "Seeing as you're both standing here together, I suppose things worked out just fine. Although…" she turns her attention to me, "stealing him away didn't turn out to be half as satisfying as I thought it'd be. But we did eventually have a son, and I gained a few years of alimony." She shrugs her toned shoulders. "So I suppose it was mutually beneficial."

With a slow grin, she takes another sip from her twelve-dollars-a-bottle water; meanwhile, Bella stiffens next to me.

Now I don't know whether to feel more shame for the stupid guy I once was and for the things I did which bound me to this woman irrevocably…or whether to feel more vindicated on Bella's behalf. Because with those words, Tanya has just proven that there's no comparison between the two. Either way, I'm ready to tell the Ex from Hell exactly how to find her way back there.

"Tanya," I hiss, "first of all, you didn't-"

Bella cuts me off. "Well, he was high the first time he kissed you, no? So I do see how it couldn't have been all that satisfying. The rest," she shrugs, "I don't really know about. But hey, kudos to you on the alimony, and most of all, congratulations on your son. I've spent enough time with him over these past few weeks to see what a wonderful young man he is, and...I can only praise you for whatever part you've played in that."

The thing is, the smile Bella gives her is so genuine that when Tanya opens her mouth to retort…nothing comes out.

Bella moves in closer, the way Tanya just did.

"But you're right," she nods, "we were all kids then. Now we're all grown-ups. So all this needs to be water under the bridge for our kids' sake if for nothing else because _they're_ what matter the most to the three of us. Now if you'll excuse me, I've had one motherfucking _hell_ of a long day. Tanya, it was honestly...good to see you again."

With that, Bella lifts herself up on her toes and wraps her hands around my face. "I'll see _you_ upstairs. There's a certain promise I refused to make a few minutes ago which I'm suddenly eager to re-evaluate."

"Oh, I'll be right there to help you," I chuckle against her mouth, kissing her over and over.

As her petite frame walks away confidently, heading toward the elevator bank that'll take her up to her room… _our_ room, my heart swells with pride.

"Isn't she just fucking amazing?" I murmur.

When I look back at Tanya, who for one of the rare times in her life has been left speechless, I simply grin.

"Take care." I walk into the waiting elevator, and as the doors close, I yell out a reminder. "And don't forget to call your son once in a while!"

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **30 chapters in all, so if we keep to the schedule, we should be done by mid-August, which is a good thing because the fam and I are off on a much needed European cruise vacay at the end of next month.**

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **Have a great weekend, and see you on Monday to see if that promise is kept...or not. ;)**


	22. Chapter 22 - Promises Kept

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts!**

 **Oh my goodness, so sorry for today's lateness! It's sweltering here in the Northeast, so I kept my daughter home from camp, and we went swimming, and to the movies, and…well, I'm just stopping now. Sorry. :)**

 **Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes (though I tinker through to the very end, so all remaining mistakes are mine).**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 22 – Promises Kept**

 **Bella**

From the 15th floor windows of my room in the J.W. Marriott, I've got a hell of a view of downtown L.A. In fact, the L.A. Live Entertainment Complex may actually be this town's version of Time Square with its Jumbo Tron screens, larger-than-life ads, and tourists and natives alike walking around with mouths hanging open. The rotund Staples Center along with the L.A. Convention Center and the glitzy Microsoft Theater line the open-air Microsoft Square, all dazzled up for the evening with flashing strobes and white lights bright as stars shining on every possible surface. The Microsoft Theater was once the Nokia Theatre, and the reason I know this is because of Nessie's obsession with an actor who played a vampire a few years earlier, at which time she begged her father and me to bring her to L.A. so she could attend the premier of one of his flicks.

Of course, Sam laughed off her request, telling her we weren't going to make such a huge trip for a mere vampire, no matter what his level of hotness was.

Plus, there was also my little problem with flying to consider.

Yet despite today's flying adventure, that issue has taken a distant second place to the way my heart races while I wait for Edward's arrival. I'm fully aware of what I just promised downstairs in the lobby of this establishment, just as I'm also aware that if I tell Edward I changed my mind, he won't push. For a split second, as I press a hot palm to the cool, glass window and watch the vastly differing temperatures form an outline of condensation against the glittering evening outside, I ask myself if I just did what I did to prove something, to claim the final word in a love triangle first engendered by mistakes and miscommunication a quarter of a century earlier.

But now I wonder…has it really ever been a love triangle?

In the grand scheme of that day long ago, Tanya Dennis has long since become simply the strawberry-blond straw that broke the brunette camel's back - one more error in a comedy of errors…the woman merely in the periphery of my nightmares. I've accepted that what happened that day would've happened either way.

After today's revelations to Edward and to myself, I can now fully admit that, as of late, my bigger problem with Tanya Dennis has been with her role as mother to Edward's son…and as the woman who was once his wife. Oh, they're selfish issues, I'm fully aware of that. After all, I moved on, married, and loved another. I had a beautiful daughter. So why should it hurt so much that Edward moved on as well?

As I rest my forehead on the window, the answer forms itself instantly: Because it was with _her_. Because not only did he move on, he did so with the woman who, however irrationally, in that part of my brain which can't be controlled or reasoned with, I blamed for ruining the possibility of _us_.

Yet when she implied that the benefit _she_ got out of her marriage was the alimony while _Edward's_ benefit was Anthony…and Jeez Louise, when she didn't know the name of her son's girlfriend…

Gazing out unseeingly at the view before me, a thousand and one snippets of conversation circle around my head - things Anthony has said as well as things Edward has implied, and...I get the feeling that all this time…all this time, she's been no threat…whatsoever.

Perhaps Fate has decided to do a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn in regards to Edward and me because perhaps this was the final piece of the puzzle I needed to feel completely and one-hundred percent ready for what I've just promised.

And perhaps, all these revelations have arrived just in time because the room's door beeps twice in quick succession announcing the introduction of a room key, and I close my eyes, breathing out a long gust of air against the window.

Maybe his footfalls aren't as slow and silent as they are in my mind; maybe they're quick, heavy, and desperate and are only camouflaged by the blood pounding in my veins and between my temples. Still, his sudden presence behind me is like an actual, physical touch. His warm breath is a caress.

When he reaches out and wraps a strong, firm hand around my shoulder, it lifts and falls with my own anxious breaths.

"You okay?" His words erupt in a shaky whisper.

Eyes still closed, I chuckle quietly. "Believe it or not, I actually am. Seeing her again wasn't half as terrifying as I always imagined it."

He lifts his other hand and squeezes both my shoulders, stroking my nape with his long thumbs. When his lips brush the back of my neck, I throw my head against his chest. His whispers in my ear raise the flesh on my shoulders.

"You should've never been terrified of her, and I'm so sorry I ever made it that way. I wish I would've told you-"

I turn in his grip and find him breathing hard as if he's just run up from the parking level. Arching a brow, I hold his gaze.

"Edward, the last thing I want to do right now is talk about _her_ , so if this is what you consider foreplay-"

He pushes me against the window, sliding his hands around my neck, his chest heaving against mine.

"Tell me what you do want _right now_ , Bella," he hisses, a sudden challenge in his bright, green eyes. "Be clear with me because I _won't_ push - not in this."

Fisting his shirt, I lock him in my gaze so that there's no confusion, no misunderstanding…no hesitation. I'm no longer seventeen, and I no longer have the inhibitions of a girl who's just learning.

"I want _you_. I want you to push me up against these dark windows and kiss and touch every single inch of my body before you make love-"

In the next instant, Edward's mouth is on mine, and we crash together in a heady fusion of tangled lips and tongues mingled with hot and heavy breaths. His primal groan is both arousing and bewildering in its familiarity. God, I remember it; despite the time that's passed, my body recognizes the sound as if it's Pavlov's call in my ear, and I respond as I always did: with anticipation and weak knees and tightening muscles in the core of my most intimate places…and with an eagerness I once believed I'd never again possess.

Past asking for permission, Edward fists the hem of my shirt and begins to lift it, and that's fine. I've just given him the green light for absolutely anything and everything, and he knows it. More importantly, I trust him with it.

We pull apart for the half second it takes for my shirt to leave my body, and then hungry lips return to devouring mine, nipping and biting while his hands roam behind me to the clasp of my bra. Meanwhile, I slide my hands under his shirt, hissing at the hardened abs.

"You feel different and the same," I murmur in between kisses.

He chuckles against my mouth. "Is that good or bad?"

"That's fucking great."

He laughs, but then the clasp gives, and his laughter evaporates, breaths now slow and uneven while he unhurriedly slips the bra past my shoulders and my arms, releasing me only long enough for it to cascade to our feet. All the while, his mouth and tongue move with mine in a maddening languidness. He swallows before he pulls away, his darkened gaze trailing downward.

In the space of a couple of minutes, Edward's chest has gone from rising and falling in quick succession to purposely slow to now…still and unmoving. It's a bit unnerving, honestly, because I was a perky-breasted seventeen-year-old the last time he saw me this way. In my opinion, time and childbirth have taken their toll. Yet the way his eyes widen and the guttural grunt that erupts from deep within his chest makes me think my opinion may be shit here.

"God, they're still as perfect as they've been in my dreams all these years."

"Then your dreams have lied to you." I chuckle self-consciously, crossing my arms in an attempt to hide from his intense scrutiny - because seriously, he's just staring.

He pulls my hands away. "Oh no, no, no." He shakes his head. "Don't you dare cover them beauties."

He inches forward so slowly that the beauties I tried to cover rise and fall with my panting, my nipples tingling. Eyes on mine, he hovers for a few heart-stopping seconds.

When he crashes against my mouth, his hands wrap around my breasts, and he moans while I gasp and close my eyes.

"Oh fuck, they're just as soft…"

"Edward…"

His lips are almost bruising in their urgency, nipping and biting while his hands mold around my mounds, and his thumbs stroke my nipples. And all I can manage are strangled sounds of elation when he trails open-mouthed kisses down to my neck and my collarbone, sucking on my heated skin as he murmurs mostly to himself.

"…still fit perfectly…"

"Oh God, oh God, oh God." I breathe the words over and over, cradling his face between my shaking hands, fisting his hair and crying out when his warm mouth wraps around my breast.

For a few seconds, I'm lost in sensation, and when I look down and see his moist tongue darting around my nipple, I have to squeeze my thighs together to keep from coming right then and there.

"Oh God, Edward."

I see a grin forming on his swollen lips as he licks his way from one breast to the other, and hungry to taste him now, I lift his shirt. He pulls on my nipple as he reaches up to the back of his neck with one hand, pulling it off roughly and then throwing it aside.

He's not the Edward of my youth. His chest is broader, the smoothness of relative boyhood now replaced by the brawn of a man in his prime, and I scratch my nails up and down his muscular back while he worships me with his mouth and tongue and hands.

"…every inch," he breathes against my skin. "I swear I will."

Without pause or preamble, he pushes down my pants, bringing my panties down with them, and in one fluid movement, he drops to his knees. My bare ass cheeks press against the cool glass window as Edward kisses my stomach while simultaneously spreading open my legs. I barely have time to realize what he's planning-

"Ohhh my fucking-"

\- as his mouth trails southward, and before I can finish the statement, his pink tongue slides between my folds and gives me one long lick from lips to clit, leaving the final words of that phrase mouthed silently as I throw back my head and my eyes roll back.

It's been…over two years since I've been licked or sucked or since anyone but myself and my vibrator has touched me there. My legs give out easily. Edward grips my hips while his mouth works me. Occasional sounds escape my throat, but honestly, I'm mostly useless. I'm verbally and physically paralyzed, mouth agape and mind unable to think beyond his burning tongue and the heat coursing through me. His own grunts and groans are muffled yet hungry as if he's been lost in a desert for years and has finally found his oasis. When he lifts one of my legs over his shoulder and buries his face deeper, I scream as my first orgasm of the night tears through me.

"Yes, yes, yes." I squirm and plead, thrash and beg, and he lifts my other leg and straddles me over his face. I look down and fist his hair while his head bobs, copper highlights catching the reflection of the outside lights as he laps up everything he pulls from me. In a few seconds, it's all over, and he carefully eases me onto the plush carpet.

"Oh God. Oh God."

Still trying to catch my breath, I open my eyes and find him hovering over me, a pleased smile spread across his wet lips.

"You asked for that."

"Oh yes, I did. And hell, did you deliver."

My heart races in my chest, and I pull his face down roughly to mine, aroused all over again by the taste of me on him. I reach for the hem of his shorts and find his erection straining painfully against the confinement. He helps me release him, groaning into my mouth when I take him in my hands.

"Fuck, Bella, your hands are so warm."

He's beyond hard, thick and rigid, unyielding, and I instinctively recall how he likes to be stroked - tip to base with my thumb teasing the moisture that forms on his head. The sounds he makes are familiar too, short grunts interspersed with long groans. When I push his chest and guide him to the floor, lifting myself on my knees and dropping my head close to his stomach, he stops me.

"No, baby," he breathes raggedly. "The way I feel right now, your mouth on me will make me explode."

I grab his face between my hands. "Don't you fucking dare come yet."

We're both chuckling as we pull off his shorts, and I'm blissfully happy as I straddle him, even taking a few seconds to admire the sight of his hard, toned body.

I'm not sure what exactly makes Sam cross my mind.

Perhaps it was just inevitable, but…when I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath…he disappears. It's a large damn room because I made _Planet Who_ pay for the Junior Suite after that debacle…

Yet there's only room for two of us. One chapter of my life is over. It was a beautiful chapter, but it's time for a new one to begin.

When I reopen my eyes, Edward is sitting up and watching me carefully. "You okay?"

"Yes. Yes, I am," I answer honestly.

He swallows, and I get the feeling he has at least a vague idea of where my thoughts momentarily strayed, but he reaches out a hand to me, and I take it, weaving our fingers together as I climb his body.

When I sit on his thighs, he pushes back a strand of hair behind my ear, voice quivering when he speaks.

"We can move to the bed if you prefer."

"I'm fine right here." I lean forward and kiss him softly.

"I have condoms in my-"

"We don't need them. My tubes are tied, Edward. No more babies for me."

For a split second, something akin to disappointment spreads across his features. But then he quickly inhales and lifts my hips, holding me prone right over his swollen crown. I grip his shoulders tight.

"This will be our new beginning, Bella."

"I know," I nod, straining to ease myself over him, but he holds my hips firmly, his head teasing just outside of my entrance.

His chest heaves against my sensitive nipples. "I need you to know, Bella…you're the one I've always dreamed of. It was always you, and…and I know you loved him, but it's _me_ here with you now. I need to know you see _me_."

Despite how horny I am, tears sting my eyes. I cup his cheek. "I know, Edward. I see _you_ , no one else. I'm _all_ in; otherwise, I wouldn't be here right now."

He smiles tenderly, a sheepish look on his face that's completely at odds with the position we're in.

"Good. Then…" With the bright city lights dancing in his eyes, he pulls me down and with one long thrust, he buries himself to the hilt.

" _Ohhh."_

I throw back my head, consumed by the raw pleasure of being so completely filled. The groan he releases from deep within his chest reverberates against my nipples. For a few seconds, neither one of us moves as we revel in our joining, a joining that's more than physical, both new and recognizable at the same time. When I bring my eyes back to him, there are deep lines of focus on his forehead, a slight flare to his nostrils, and I remember that look - his face of lust and want and total abandon. Seeing it again brings it all rushing back. So when he slowly lifts my hips and eases me back down, I want to cry from the beauty of it all, past and present.

"Bella…" he breathes my name reverently, beginning a rhythmic push and pull, fingers digging into my thighs. My palms lay flat on his chest, supporting myself as I rock back and forth over him in long, deep strokes, feeling him slide in and out, releasing me and stretching me.

"Oh Edward." The words are high-pitched and ragged, punctuated by uneven sighs and heady breaths.

"Again, Bella," he says. "Again, baby."

At first, I think he means he likes the way I'm moving, and he's encouraging me to keep the pace.

"You and me…again…it had to be."

I know what he means. It's unexplainable, but somehow…this was always supposed to happen. The lives we led in between were full and important and will forever be a part of us.

But _this_ us…this us would always end up here.

"I know," I say shakily, my arms quivery and unbalanced. "Oh God…I know…"

When he weaves our fingers together and holds our arms out to our sides, lifting his hips and impaling himself inside me as deep as he can go, he hits the right spot, and I lose control in the most wonderful, sensuous, fiery way imaginable.

All-consuming heat fans out from where we're joined and races up my heart and spine and into every possible extremity, all the way to my toes and scalp. I bounce over him, chasing that heat, unwilling to allow it to disappear because the world could end right now, and all I need is that heat.

"Edward! Oh God, Edward! Edward!"

"Yeah, baby. Yeah."

He sits up and sucks on my breasts, and the heat spurts through me in waves. By the time he pushes me onto my back, I've turned into a big blob of jelly.

"My turn now," he growls, pumping deep, filling me in every way possible, thrusting fast and hard then slow and shallow, mouth sucking on my lips and collarbone and everywhere he can reach. His skin is sticky with his perspiration, and it makes our bodies slip and slide against one another. The delicious pleasure of it all coils tight within me yet again, and when lifts my leg over his hip, pulling out completely before slamming back in, we come undone together.

I've become unfamiliar with such an orgasm; months and months of a vibrator or my own fingers have been so inadequate that now I don't know what to do with myself.

I scream and fist his hair as the sensation rips through me. Then I scratch my nails down his back as he groans almost as loudly as me, grabbing my ass and holding me prone against him while his hips rock fast then slow, and he releases everything he has inside me. When we're done, we wrap around each other as if we've melded into one…which I think…maybe...we have.

For a long while afterward, we lie on the floor catching our breaths. Edward rolls me over him, arms like a cage around me, stroking my hair while kissing the top of my head. When I look up, he's watching me through exhausted, half-lidded eyes.

I chuckle at him. "You've got some serious control now, Edward. I remember you used to come pretty quickly."

He buries his face in my hair and snorts. "Yeah, I remember that too; though, I didn't consider it _quick_ back then. Now I'm a man in my forties who's got to work much harder than he used to."

"Oh, baby." I pretend-pout, kissing his sweaty chest, rubbing my cheek against it. "Did I make you work hard?"

"You won't hear me complaining," he grins tiredly. "That's the best kind of hard work, and it was totally worth it…as long as you enjoyed it."

It's a question as much as a statement. "I came three times, Edward," I smile. "If that's not proof of enjoyment, I don't know what is."

He strokes my bare ass languidly. "I don't remember ever being able to give you multiple orgasms."

"I don't think I knew how to have them back then. Then again, it's been over two years for me. I was ready to come the moment I heard the door."

As soon as the words are out, I realize how wrong that sounded. Edward's face falls, but he quickly wipes it all away.

"Yeah. Well, I'm glad I could be of-"

I cradle his cheek in my hand. "Hey, that was incredibly insensitive and untrue. Making love with _you_ was wonderful, amazing, and...life-altering _._ I didn't mean for it to sound as if I was cheapening it because I wasn't."

He studies me silently. "It _was_ life-altering, Bella."

"Yes," I nod quietly.

"Bella…" his finger circles my lips, "it was never over for me. Even when it was over, it wasn't - _ever_." He kisses me softly.

"I know that now," I smile, cupping his cheek. "I really do."

"I should've said it before this. I've wanted to say it for weeks, but I wanted to know you were ready to hear it…to believe me. I think…I hope you're ready."

I lift myself on one elbow over his hard chest, heart racing again. "What is it you want to say?"

His answer is quick, unambiguous, and said in a tone which implies that at this point, it should be obvious. And maybe it is, and I just need to hear it from _this_ Edward, from the man he's become.

"I love you, Bella."

I think I shock us both by choking back a sob, and he quickly envelops me in his arms. "Shh. And you don't have to say it back – not now, not if you're not ready. I have loved you since you were that super smart girl in my lunch period whom I asked to the movies, fully expecting her to turn me down and completely unprepared when she said yes." When I chuckle, he lifts my face back to his, wiping away an errant tear. "And I think...that was our main problem back then; I was completely unprepared for you. I've spent many years knowing you were the only girl I ever loved, and I won't say I dwelled on it every day, Bella, because I didn't. I had a son, a business, and a life that kept me busy."

"I understand that very well," I smile.

"I didn't know how to love you when we were kids – openly, unselfishly, and without allowing the fear of getting hurt to cause me to hurt you first. My love caused you pain, in…unimaginable ways, and so I had no right to complain when life took you away from me until I could learn to be the right man. I want to spend the rest of my life proving to you that I've learned."

My lips brush tenderly over his. When I answer, my breath becomes ours. "I think…I think I want to let you."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **This song kept running through my head while writing this chapter:**

 _ **Love Me Like You Do**_ **by Ellie Goulding. :)**

 _ **I'll let you set the pace  
cuz I'm not thinking straight.  
My head's spinning around  
I can't see clear no more.  
What are you waiting for?**_

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **See you guys on Wednesday!**


	23. Chapter 23 - California Dreamin' Bars

**A/N: Thank you so so much for all you wonderful thoughts last chapter - especially after the SNAFU with Fanfiction.**

 **Betad by the wonderful Michelle Renker Rhodes (although I tinker through to the very end, so all remaining mistakes are mine).**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 23 - California Dreamin' Bars**

 **Edward**

When I open my eyes, there's a sliver of daylight streaming in through a crack in the closed curtains. It reaches out like a hand over her naked body. Even the sun wants to caress her, bathe her in its soft glow with shimmering specks of dust to herald her presence, as if declaring, _Here she is - your dream come to true, the second chance for which you never dared hope. She's your loss and pain and regret now transformed into your gain and joy and irrevocably…your only salvation._

 _Your Bella…finally in your arms._

I close my eyes and exhale in bewildered relief and gratitude, squeezing her warm body closer to mine and pressing a soft kiss to her smooth neck. She, in turn, mumbles something incoherent and nestles deeper into me, her bare ass rocking into my morning erection, and I chuckle quietly. Yesterday morning, when I opened my eyes after yet another dream of her that left me with only loneliness in its wake, I sure as hell didn't imagine that _this_ was how I'd be waking up twenty-four hours later.

All the events of yesterday still feel like a wondrously-crafted dream, but everything - beginning with her fall out with Family Fucking Friend to her courageously boarding that flight which left me close to finding her having a nervous breakdown in a corner of LAX to our time by the PV cliffs where she told me about...our son followed by the moment she held her head high in front of Tanya, and ending with the moment she collapsed on top of me for the final time last night (or early this morning) - was all _real_.

"Bella." Her name pours forth from me in a whisper of total devotion. When I bury my face deep into her silky hair, the scent that surrounds me of her body and mine together is one I never truly forgot, and it's one which was never again replicated in all the years in between our last time and now.

Twenty-five goddamn years. It took me a quarter of a century to earn the privilege of spending a night with this woman. In between those years, we both lived a lifetime – spouses and children and good days and bad days.

The timing wasn't right – that's what they say, isn't it? It simply wasn't our time. It wasn't…our son's time. I had growing up to do, and she had other adventures to lead. In my head, I know all this, yet in my heart, it's hard to reconcile with the fact that I lost a son even though those wrong turns led me to the son I've treasured since his birth.

And no, I wouldn't trade him for the world, but I can't help wishing there was a way…a way I could've kept _both_ my sons _and_ the woman I love.

Yeah, I'm a greedy, selfish motherfucker. That hasn't changed, has it?

In my youth, my fears revolved around _me_ and how the distance between us would affect me if she went to Paris. _I'd_ be lonely. _I'd_ be here by myself. _I'd_ be wondering what she was doing over there…meeting someone she'd love more than me, and then what the hell would _I_ be left with? Never once did I think to myself, _My God, she's going to be there all alone, without me to take care of her or protect her,_ or _She's going to prosper and grow so much over there._

And now, while I entertain thoughts in my head of having been allowed to keep it all, what about _her_ daughter? What about the young woman Bella created with another man, the girl she treasures above all else in this world because she's hers and because she struggled to keep her safe inside her…the girl my very own son adores more than anything? And…what about Sam? What about the two decades of joy he experienced with this amazing woman before his life was cut short? Should I begrudge him that as well all so that _I_ would've never had to go without her?

I exhale a long, heavy breath. It's all enough to drive me insane.

"Edward…"

She breathes my name into the silence of the room, and at first I think I've woken her with my own heavy breaths, anxious squeezing, and inner demons. But her chest rises and falls slowly, and knowing she's just said my name in her sleep…it helps to lift the weight of guilt, the weight of loss which was once again settling heavily over my heart. I'll never get a chance to rejoice in my first Anthony's creation…or in his life, but maybe…I'll be allowed to spend the rest of my life doing everything I can to make his mother happy.

She was meant for more back then. She went off to school in Paris, and a young girl who was already pretty independent to begin with became this amazingly confident woman. She had the courage to begin again with someone else after having been hurt so badly by a kid who didn't know how to appreciate her. She had the bravery to try for another child despite her horrendous experience the first time. And she had the knowledge, strength, and grit to start her own extremely successful business.

Life is fucking crazy, but every once in a while…it makes sense.

When a phone vibrates from the nightstand on her side of the bed, her head shoots up immediately, and she leans over to check the caller's I.D.

"Nessie," she breathes, sitting straight up. "Hi, honey."

Over the phone line, I hear the murmurings of her daughter's voice, and while Bella listens, my hand languidly strokes her bare back.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Really, like I told you yesterday, the flight wasn't too bad," she lies. "I'm sorry I didn't call you before I went to bed last night, but I was..."

A crooked grin lifts up one edge of my mouth while I wait to hear how she's going to finish that one.

"...super tired."

I snort under my breath. Without turning around, she reaches back and smacks my chest - which just makes me chuckle.

"Shh. Relax," I breathe, massaging the nape of her neck.

"What? Oh, you're right, you're right. I'm rarely ever still in bed at this time when I'm back home, but with the time difference..."

My fingers trace the smooth grooves of her spine.

"Yes. Yes, I do see now how being called at five-thirty in the morning west coast time may get annoying," she mutters.

I've got to press my lips together to keep from laughing out loud at that one. When Bella opens her mouth again, it's obvious from her tone that she's desperate to change the subject.

"Ness, how about you tell me how this morning's Swan Bellies production went? Oh yeah? That's great! I knew you could do it." Pride brims in her voice. With an uneven sigh and her back still to me, she reaches for my hand and weaves her fingers through mine. "I knew _both_ you and Anthony could do it. He's really earned his way into the entire operation, hasn't he?"

I draw myself up on one hand and brush my lips over her shoulder, ghosting them back and forth.

"So what did you name this morning's creation?" she asks. "California Dreamin' Bars, huh?" Her head turns, and when she meets my eyes, she smirks. "Anthony's idea, you say? Well, tell him I said that sounds...just about perfect." We hold one another's gaze, and when she looks at me that way, the whole damn world disappears, and it's just she and me in this room. But when her brow furrows, I cock my head sideways and remember she's still on the phone.

"I didn't mean to worry you, baby. It's just since we spoke earlier yesterday, I didn't want to call too much and make you think I don't trust you...wait, what do you mean that story sounds _sus_ and not like me at all? What does _sus_ even mean?"

With another quiet chuckle, I trail a path from Bella's shoulder and up her neck, to her free ear where I whisper low enough so that no one but she hears me.

"It means suspicious, suspect, shady." I suck on her earlobe, enjoying the way her breasts heave with her breaths. "It means they're on to us, and now..." I cup her breast in my hand and roll her tight nipple between my thumb and forefinger while Bella quietly gasps and throws back her head, "now she's giving you a taste of your own medicine."

"Yeah, Ness," she says into the phone, struggling to keep her voice even. "Yeah, baby. I'll call you after the meeting and let you know how it all went."

"Hang up _now_ ," I say before taking her nipple in my mouth.

She hisses and fists my hair, but then drawing in a sharp breath, she yanks me away. "Oh, crap. Ness, I'll talk to you later. Aunt Alice is calling. Okay, love you."

The next thing I hear is a loud voice on the other line. When she rolls her eyes, I laugh as I throw myself over the bed again.

"First of all, I did send a quick response to one of your fourteen texts last night, and if you're going to fucking kill me for finding out I'm alive, then why bother trying to find out if I'm alive at all? That kind of defeats the whole purpose, don't you think?"

When I snort, Bella turns her head and gives me a sidelong glance, her eyes raking up and down my bare torso before she turns around again.

"Well, considering it's _five-thirty_ in the morning here, I'm in my hotel room, and I _was_ sleeping…well, sort of."

Here, she looks at me again, an impish grin spreading across her beautiful face before she quickly faces forward once more. Sitting up behind her once more, I press my chest to her spine and brush my mouth and jaw over the spot where her neck meets her shoulder. "Hang up."

She draws in a few silent, successive breaths and tries to ignore me. When I pick up her hair and suck on the nape of her neck, her voice quivers.

"Jeez, must all you darn lawyers be so dramatic all the time?"

"Hang up."

"You're right, Ally, you're right. I should've called you directly, but it was…" she sighs, "one of the craziest days of my life from beginning to end."

I look up, and she turns her head sideways to meet my eyes for a few seconds before dropping her gaze. I lift my hands to her shoulders and squeeze them.

"The flight was…nightmarish. Yeah, he knows. He found me at the airport close to a nervous breakdown."

"God, baby-"

"Shh," she says, kissing me softly before she stands and walks toward the shuttered window.

I sit on the bed and watch her, unable to keep myself from admiring her hourglass figure, the way her waist narrows and then widens to a plump ass. Despite the topic, I can't stop myself from growing harder.

"Al, you weren't far off when you pictured me catatonic or in a TSA holding cell."

"Fuck," I mutter quietly, raking a hand through my hair.

"I have no idea," Bella says, opening the curtain and allowing the sun to illuminate her in all her naked glory. "We've got that meeting this morning, and then depending on how that goes…I don't know," she says, her tone tinged with anxiety, "I suppose I'll have to deal with another flight either tonight or tomorrow."

"I'm driving you back to New York."

She turns around, and God, I don't care what she says, her tits are perfect: round and soft, with pink and perky nipples - the entire package with just the right amount of bounce. I fucking live and work around L.A. in a day and age where plastic surgery is becoming more the rule than the exception, and I've seen and touched more than one pair of such surgically enhanced tits. Trust me, Bella's tits put them all to fucking shame.

She lifts a brow my way, addressing me despite the phone still held to her ear.

"You're driving me home? That'll take a few days."

"And?"

She studies me silently through those dark, penetrating eyes before returning to her call.

"Yeah, it's him. Yeah." She turns and walks toward the bathroom, passing me by without a glance. "He took it…hard," I hear her say quietly. "He's still taking it hard, but I think he'll be okay. I think…we'll both be okay," she finishes in a whisper before walking into the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

I sit at the edge of the bed for a few minutes allowing her to finish her talk with Alice, and when I hear the shower go on, it's as if my feet (and other parts of me) have minds of their own. When I knock on the door, she calls for me to come in.

She's already in the shower - an oversized, glass enclosed stall obviously built for more than one and for more than just showering. One of those rainfall showerheads drenches her dark head of hair like a summer storm.

"Join me?"

Pulling open the glass door, I walk in and pull her into my arms as we stand under the steamy water together, her soft body against my harder…much harder one. She wraps her arms around my shoulders, and I grab her ass as and our mouths move over lips and necks and every bit of heated, wet skin we can reach.

"So you're driving me home?"

"Yes," I breathe into her ear.

"What about your own company, Edward?"

"I've got a great business partner." I take her face in my hands. "Listen to me, I always mean to give you space, Bella, I _swear_ I do," I hiss. "When I saw you in that restaurant after so many years, I meant to give you space. When I returned to New York, I meant to give you space to think about whether you even wanted to give us a second chance. When you arrived yesterday, and I found you heartbroken, I wanted to be there yet give you your space. After you told me about our son…" I swallow, "I meant to give you space. And even though I was dying to share your bed last night, I meant to give you space." All the while, her dark eyes hold mine, and when I claim her lips again, she groans into my mouth, and I'm lost in her. "But I can't fucking resist you," I growl against her lips.

She fists my hair, pulling away to meet my eyes. "If I really wanted the space, Edward, I wouldn't have given you the time of day in that restaurant. I wanted you again from the moment I saw you. I simply didn't want to want you. But now…now…"

Her mouth crashes against mine, and when her tongue slides inside, I meet it stroke for stroke. The sounds we make with one another are familiar and exhilarating, and I know I've never felt like this kissing anyone else. The girl of then, who was just beginning to come into her own has become this sexy-as-hell woman, who knows exactly what she wants. And it all combines into a heady mixture I'll never get enough of.

This time, when she presses her palms against my chest and pushes me out from under the stream before dropping to her knees, I don't stop her. I've had her four times since last night, and though my heart feels as if it's about to slam out of my chest, I think I'm ready to feel her mouth on me without exploding on contact.

It's not easy. She's…changed in this too. The first time seventeen-year-old Bella gave me head, I had to beg and plead. When she agreed, the whole thing was quick and to the point – but hey, I was nineteen, and a blow job from your girl was a blow job from your girl. I got a tentative lick to the head before she took half of it into her mouth, scraped a bit with her teeth, bobbed a bit, and when about ten seconds into it, I warned her that I was about to come, she pulled away and finished me off with her hand. We did it again a handful of times throughout our relationship, and my lack of control combined with her inexperience kept every time more or less the same.

Which is why when her face just hovers there for a few seconds, purposely breathing long and heavy against my painfully swollen appendage while licking her bottom lip and looking up at me through long, wet eyelashes, I'm not sure I'll last the ten to thirty seconds nineteen-year-old Edward used to last, much less any longer because this isn't seventeen-year-old Bella going down on me.

She inhales through her nostrils and closes her eyes slowly, and I throw back my head, feeling my hardened member twitch upwards as it searches for the heat she's teasing it with.

"I've learned a few things since last time."

"Have you?" I leave it at that because the last thing I want to think about right now is what she's learned and with who.

But when I feel the tip of her tongue dart over the tip, a guttural groan erupts from deep within my chest. And when she sucks my head into her mouth, circling her tongue around the crown, I'm ready to get on my knees and give thanks for whatever lessons she's picked up.

For a few seconds, her moist lips just stay there, wrapped softly while my eyes roll to the back of my head. My stomach muscles tighten and coil, heart suddenly still, and before I can even think of breathing again, she suctions me in half way.

" _Holy…"_ is all I manage to say before sucking in a sharp breath, hissing through my teeth and leaning heavily against the tub's pristine, white tiles in case my legs give out. The chuckle she releases reverberates down to my balls, which she begins playing with as her mouth moves up and down my length at the same time that she pumps me with her other hand. Whatever part of me isn't in her mouth is in the palm of her hand – figuratively and literally.

If heaven is a place on earth, then that place is definitely inside Bella's mouth.

And heaven lasts and lasts while she strokes and sucks, moaning around me. When I can't take anymore, I reach down and pull up her shocked, petite, and hot-as-hell body, press her against the tiles and bury myself inside her to the hilt.

She cries out, wrapping her legs around my waist while I thrust into her, grinding my hips and punctuating each stroke with a grunt. My mouth finds her nipple, and I suck on one and then the other. She fists my hair and whimpers, her head thrashing from side to side. And when she tightens all around me, squeezing me from the inside for all it's worth and screaming through her orgasm, I explode with her.

OOOOOOOOOO

I park the car in a lot downtown, about a block from the sleek, silver high-rise where L.A. Confectioners, or LAC, have their tenth-floor main office, and where we're set to meet with them in about forty minutes.

The sun's rays slowly disappear as I put up the car's hood and enclose Bella and me inside for a few more minutes before we step out into the world at large.

Angling myself sideways, I take in the woman next to me.

Bella looks…gorgeous and professional in her white blouse and red pencil skirt, her long, thick hair pulled back in a wavy, natural ponytail without the unnecessary sleekness some women demand of every strand. She exudes calm and readiness; although, I know how nervous she truly is. It's one of the things I've learned about her these past few weeks: she has an uncanny ability to control her emotions on the outside even if not so much on the inside. On the inside, she feels so damn much.

She leans in to straighten my tie. "You look amazing, Mr. Masen. I sure hope that company is run by women because one look at both you and that Mini-me of yours, who'll be Skyping in, and we'll have this shit in the bag. Right now, I am not opposed to allowing you two to be shamelessly ogled if it gets me that contract."

I throw back my head and laugh while she fiddles with my shirt collar and grins impishly.

"First of all, you're full of shit. Second, you know very well that LAC is run by a mixed team of men and women. What's more, I, unlike you, better not see anyone giving you the side eye."

She chuckles. "What you better not do is interfere if any one of them, male or female, does start hitting on me and offering me that contract if I give 'em a little sum'n sum'n on the side."

I snort, kissing the tip of her nose. "Like I said, full of shit. But you're right about one thing." I eye her carefully. "In business, side deals can be good, even necessary sometimes, especially when they leave each party involved in a better place or a place on which they can all agree."

"I'll keep that in mind," she smiles.

"I hope you do."

Out of nowhere, a huge yawn escapes her. She covers her mouth, laughing as she apologizes.

"Shit, baby, I'm the one who should be apologizing. Knowing the time difference you were operating on and knowing you had this meeting early in the morning, I still kept you up all night. Then, I didn't even allow you your own _bath time_ for God's sake."

She smirks at me, giving my bottom lip a quick nip. "Will you stop? Did you once hear me complaining or asking for sleep? Besides, we better take advantage all we can because soon, we'll be back on opposite coasts."

I draw in a deep breath and release it slowly. No, I'm not that same kid from back then, but that doesn't mean I've got to be all right with the upcoming distance between us, does it? It's yet something else we have to figure out.

But if there's one thing I have figured out it's that with time and dedication, we _will_ work it out.

"All right," I grin, "are you ready then?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," she sighs, checking her watch. "Gianna will meet us in the lobby in about ten minutes so we can coordinate a few things. And _Anthony_ …" she smiles softly, "will Skype into the meeting at eight."

"Good. Then we're set."

She places a hand on the door handle, and I reach out and touch her shoulder.

"Are you sure you want me there? I won't be offended, Bella, if you don't. Both you and Anthony are well-equipped to handle this."

She nods right away without hesitance. "I want you there for moral support if nothing else."

Knowing she sees me as someone who can support her emotionally as opposed to the emotional drain I once was…it means the world.

OOOOOOOOOO

Inside the office building, we find Gianna, who's already set up a quiet corner with a couple of leather chairs and a coffee table laid out with bagels and coffee. At fifteen minutes to eight, we take the elevator up to the tenth floor and walk into LAC's office. The receptionist guides us to the conference room, where we set up and Skype in Anthony.

Over on the east coast, he's sitting in a quiet, empty conference room in his own suit and tie. The confidence which exudes from him even through the screen is one of the things he's inherited from his mother. He's always had it, not feigned or cocky the way mine was but real and maintained even through difficult situations. Yet it doesn't make him arrogant; it makes him able to stand up for what he believes. He adjusts his tie. He's never been good at knotting ties, and it looks just about perfect, which makes me think either Bella has been giving him lessons, or Nessie had a hand in it this morning.

"Hey, Dad. Good morning Mrs. Laurent, Gianna."

"Hey, Anthony," I reply. Gianna greets him quickly before returning to her notes for the five minutes we have before LAC is set to appear.

"Hi Anthony," Bella says softly. Seated next to her, I'm sure I'm the only one who hears the catch in her breath, the successive uneven sighs, and I squeeze her hand under the table because now…I understand them. "I hear things went well with the day's creation."

"As well as can be expected without you around," he grins.

Bella snorts. "Nice name you chose for them, by the way."

"I thought you might approve."

"Smart-ass," Bella breathes, smiling. "So are you ready?"

"Yes, ma'am, I am," he says, sitting up straighter, full of that innate confidence I'm talking about.

"Anthony…call me Bella through this meeting, okay? They don't know me as Mrs. Laurent. I've…been working on switching back to Bella Swan for business purposes." She looks as if she wants to say more but then stops herself.

Now _this_ seems to throw him. Through the screen, I see his green eyes widen. " _O_ -kay. Of course…Bella."

The LAC team arrives in the conference room at eight on the dot. Like us, the team is made up two men and two women, two of which I've met before in previous dealings where LAC was a subcontractor to another company with which we worked. Introductions are made, and everyone takes a seat. Friendly chatter and a few friendly jokes are exchanged before we actually get down to business. All the while, my eyes move up to the clock on the wall as inconspicuously as possible, waiting.

"Now Miss Swan…" Stephen Eng, a guy in his late fifties or so, is the head of LAC. The couple or so times I've met with him previously, I've found him to be a fair and genial kind of guy. "We were extremely excited at the possibility of being involved with Swan Bellies' expansion into the west coast when you and I first began discussing this a few weeks back."

"Call me, Bella. And we were excited as well, Mr. Eng," Bella smiles. "I apologize for any misunderstanding there may have been more recently-"

He cuts her off with a grin and a wave of his hand. "Please, call me Stephen. As far as I'd been informed by my group, it was all but a done deal."

"And that's how I saw it as well, Stephen," Bella nods.

"As did most of us at Planet Who," Gianna adds.

"But it was Jacob Black, _your_ account manager," stresses one of the other LAC group members, "who called us a few days ago and informed us that you would be seeking a different confectionery distributor here in L.A. because your group didn't believe we had the right fit."

Bella's nostrils flare, and I see her mouth tighten, and her swallowing down her fury because it's not really directed at anyone here at the moment.

As for me, I snort silently to myself because I swear to God if I see Family Fucking Friend again…

"Stephen," I grin, "there was a miscommunication. We all agree on that, and the person responsible is no longer involved. The question now is, how do we move beyond it?"

"Edward, I'm afraid we can't." He leans back against his swivel chair. "While I would love for LAC to be the distributor in what I'm sure will be an extremely successful business venture here on the west coast, once we saw we'd have that space open, we quickly moved in on another proposal. Masen, you know how this business works. If there's something else waiting, there's no reason not to pursue it."

Next to me, I can feel Bella's disappointment rolling off of her in waves.

"Has your group signed a contract with them yet, Stephen?" Anthony asks.

"No, Anthony," Stephen responds honestly, "but we don't make a habit of going back on our word."

"I assure you, Stephen," Bella says in a pleading tone, "neither do I. I built this company from scratch based on what was initially word-of-mouth. I know the importance of building a strong, reliable name."

"I'm sure you do," he smiles genuinely at her. "But as a business woman, I'm sure you also understand the financial implications involved here."

"We can renegotiate the numbers to something we can both still find fair."

"It's not simply a matter of just the numbers. The other contract may be smaller, but frankly, with how quickly your marketing group threw us off, this new contract became more reliable - less of a risk than Swan Bellies. I'm sorry."

Silence surrounds us for about five seconds. My phone vibrates with a message, and when I glance down at it as surreptitiously as possible, I see four words on my locked screen, a group message from Jasper to Anthony and me.

 **Done. Go for it, Tony.**

A small smile spreads across my face. At the same time, on the conference room screen, Anthony clears his throat.

"Actually, Stephen, Masen & Global may have a solution here."

OOOOOOOOOO

About an hour later, everyone is shaking hands, with grins on every face, and promises to be in touch later this afternoon for contract signing followed by meetings at specified times and dates in the next few days.

Anthony has already disconnected to return to his internship. Meanwhile, Stephen commends me on Anthony's negotiation skills, assuring me that he's "a chip off the old block."

Bella laughs in all the right places; although, I fucking know she's ready to explode – and not so much in a good way this time even if the result is exactly what she was hoping for.

So I wait while she and the rest of LAC joke around a bit, become friendly, and then we settle on meeting again at five this afternoon for finalization.

At the elevator, Bella hugs Gianna and thanks her for making the trip and for handling the logistics. Then Gianna takes the elevator down by herself while Bella and I silently wait for the next one. It's a good thing we ride it empty on the way down because she's quietly seething. When we hit the street, she stalks to the car, her luscious ass swaying back and forth in front of me, her ponytail swinging from side to side. I can see her back at my house with that pencil skirt riding up her thighs and that ponytail fisted in my hand while she rides me.

It's going to be a hell of a long ride back to Newport Beach tonight.

As soon as we reach the car, she rounds on me. She's small yet so strong, and God, I love her. And I know she loves me too. She'll say it when she's ready.

"Before we even get into the ridiculous deal you've just made, let's start with why you left me out of it." She begins pacing in front of me, waving her arms around wildly. "This is my fucking business," she hisses, digging a thumb into her chest. "No matter what crazy shit you were planning, I should've been in on it!"

When I take her by her shoulders to stop her pacing, she glowers up at me, and it takes all my strength not to kiss her crazy right here.

"First, had you known, would you have gone along with it?"

"No! I mean, I know I said I'd do just about anything-"

"Look, Bella, the whole idea was Anthony's."

Her shoulders fall, and for all her fury of a few seconds earlier, now she looks close to tears. Her bottom lip quivers.

"He shouldn't have."

"Yes, he should've. He ran it by me yesterday while you were up in the air flying over here."

It kills me how even reminding her of her flight makes her visibly shudder.

"But _you_ lose in this while _I_ gain."

"No," I chuckle, cradling her face in my hands. "Yes, we lose an account, but we've been so overwhelmed lately-"

She yanks me off of her and takes a step back. "Don't give me that crap, Edward. Don't tell me you couldn't handle all the business on your plate and then claim I just did _you_ a favor because I'm not some dumbass who'll simply buy that."

"All right. Buy this:" I close the distance she just created between us. "I just did _you_ a favor because I love you."

She lunges at me and slides her arms around my neck.

"And because Anthony respects the hell out of you and out of your business. He asked, and I gave him the okay to put the offer on the table. It was up to him and Jasper to work out the figures because I had to get to you." I pull away from her enough to hold her glassy gaze. "That was _my_ priority. You needed me, and this time, I was going to be there. So they worked on the actual numbers all night while you and I talked about our son and our relationship and settled things which needed to be settled. But Jasper still had to speak to the client to make sure they'd be okay with LAC taking over their account. We didn't hear from them until a few minutes into the meeting."

She shakes her head. "Jesus, how much is this costing you?"

"In the grand scheme of things? Nothing. So we hand over an account to LAC," I shrug. "Swan Bellies gains, and…with the way things are going between Anthony and Ness, a gain in either business is a gain to both. It'll all go to them eventually anyway, won't it? Win-win."

Her nostrils flare with emotion. "Edward…I...I l-"

"Don't you dare tell me you love me right now, Bella Swan. Not now."

"I...I wasn't going to say that." She pouts petulantly. "I was going to say…. _thank you_ , and I wish the Spawn was here right now so that I could give him a big, fat hug from mean old Mrs. Laurent."

 _"Spawn?_ " I arch a brow in question. Her eyes widen, and she bites her lip, shrugging sheepishly.

"Uh…uhm…well…I may or may not have nicknamed him that in my head when I first met him. Oh, I've long since stopped thinking of him that way," she says with a wave of her hand, "but the nickname has stuck - in my head at least."

I bury my face in her neck and laugh my ass off.

"Spawn. Only you would think of a nickname like that. Wait 'til I tell him."

"No, no." When I raise my head from her neck, she's watching me through remorseful eyes. "Please don't tell him. I don't ever want him to know…"

I cradle her chin between my fingers. "The baby… _our_ Anthony…I don't think he should be a secret."

"We'll tell them," she nods. "Now that you know, there's no reason for them not to know. But…Anthony doesn't need to know how hard it's been for me to look at him – no more than I think he already suspects."

"Okay," I agree quietly, sliding my hands around the nape of her neck and giving her a little shake - just so she'll know I mean this. "Bella...from here on in, I will _always_ take care of you, and I may not always apologize for it."

She smirks at me. "Well…from here on in, I may or may not let you take care of me, but don't expect me to show you my appreciation when you're high-handed about it."

"So stubborn," I chuckle. Our mouths meet slowly, a kiss of reconciliation that promises so much more…later. "Now come on. Let's go celebrate your new contract somewhere close by so we can be right back here at 4:30 p.m. We don't want to be a second late to that meeting."

She cups my cheek and offers me a wonderfully languid smile. "Now you're catching on."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

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 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **See you guys on Friday. :)**


	24. Chapter 24 - Not Yet

**A/N: Thank you for all your wonderful thoughts. It's been a crazy day today, that's all I can say. :)**

 **Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes. (But all remaining mistakes are mine.)**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 24 – Not Yet**

 **Bella**

Edward and I hang around downtown L.A. for the next few hours, neither of us daring to venture too far in the unlikely event that LAC decide that being allowed to take over one of M&S's lucrative contracts in the next option period isn't enough of an incentive to break their word with the company which was going to replace Swan Bellies' contract. So we stay local, and Edward drives me around the financial district to see the area's skyscrapers, hotels, banks, and law firms. It's somewhat reminiscent of New York City's financial district; although, Edward tells me that up until a few years ago, the entire area was a seedy hothouse full of deteriorating buildings, drug dens, and hookers.

"Like Times Square before Giuliani," I grin.

"Exactly," he smirks.

We drive past the cylindrically shaped and vertically massive U.S. Bank Tower, which I recognize from a few T.V. shows and from that movie a few years back where aliens pointed a laser beam at it and blew it to smithereens.

"It's the tallest building in the entire state and something like the sixty-fifth tallest in the world." He sounds extremely proud of this fact as if he's pointing out the Burj Khalifa to me.

"Really, the actual _sixty-fifth_ tallest?" I say, staring up at the tower and hiding my smirk behind my hand.

But he's getting to know me all too well here, as his side-eyed scowl clearly proves.

"I mean, come on!" I laugh. "I live in New York. They practically invented skyscrapers over there."

"And they perfected them over here. I bet you your New York City skyscrapers aren't built to withstand earthquakes of an 8.3 magnitude?"

"Yeah, Edward," I snort, "you're really selling me on the benefits of California versus New York with that one."

He rolls his eyes at the windshield, and I laugh again, enjoying the way the breeze whipped up by the convertible blows through his hair. So I reach out and run my fingers through it, making him smile at the windshield.

We stop at a food truck for lunch and order tacos and enchiladas wrapped in foil and basic supermarket napkins. Then we eat it all in the car with the top down and the sun shining warmly on our skin.

"Mm," I moan, taking the last bite of my taco and licking my fingers. "All right, Edward. I'll give you the authentic Mexican cuisine award. _That's_ a hit - much better than the sixty-fifth tallest skyscraper in the world. Hey, quit throwing your lettuce at me!"

"Quit talking smack about my skyscrapers."

I snicker quietly, watching him. He's got on those Ray-Bans with his hair windblown and sun-streaked, his slim tie loosened around his neck, and the suit – well, the suit is still perfect. And there's a little piece of tomato from the pico de gallo lingering on one corner of his mouth, which I lean in gingerly and lick off.

He grins wickedly and winks at me. "I left that there strategically."

"Sure you did."

With a growl, he pulls me in and kisses me.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Where are we going now?" I ask after lunch as the car speeds down the city streets.

Edward's hand creeps into my lap and under my skirt. He squeezes my thigh as he grins impishly at the windshield.

"To show you that sign you wanted to see."

We head west, ending up on Mulholland Drive, where I turn into the most shameless tourist imaginable. At one of the Drive's many overlooks, Edward stops the car, and we sit on the hood as he performs his tour guide duties once more, pointing out the HOLLYWOOD sign and the Griffith Park Observatory behind it, and to the north, the lush San Fernando Valley.

" _Ohh_." My chest swells with wonder at the beauty of it all. "This is just…breathtaking."

"It is." His voice is a reverent whisper. When I turn away from the view and toward him, his bright, green eyes are already on me.

OOOOOOOOOO

At forty-thirty in the afternoon, we're waiting in the lobby of LAC's office, and by five-fifty, we've got my Swan Bellies slash L.A. Confectioners contract signed, sealed and copied.

As soon as we walk out of the building, I launch myself into Edward's arms. He picks me up off the ground and holds me tightly to his chest, and I feel…so warm and blissful...and cherished.

"We did it!"

"Yes, we did," he laughs, pulling away to give me a smirk. "Man, for someone who seemed ready to kick my ass this morning…"

He shouldn't have done it. I'll accept his bullshit reasoning that he's got more than enough business to keep him busy, and that in the long run, this will be a win-win because of Nessie and Anthony, but I'll only accept it because I'm allowing myself to be a selfish, self-serving bitch right now. A normal businessman who wasn't in love with the woman involved in the deal wouldn't have done it…but I'll accept that too.

I guess there must be something in my eyes, something just aching to let loose because Edward narrows his eyes into slits, nostrils flaring.

"Don't you dare," he warns again. "I swear to God, Bella, you say it right now, and I'll drop you on your perfect, little ass."

I pull out of his grip and huff. "You know, you've totally ruined this now."

His brow furrows. "What have I ruined now and how?"

"The moment when I say it. Now, it'll just be a non-moment."

"A non-moment," he repeats, his eyes full of amusement. "How will it be a non-moment?"

"Because we both know I want to say it, but now you won't let me say it unless it's in some quiet, nothing, ordinary setting - a non-moment."

He just stares at me for a few moments, and then with a quiet chuckle, he grabs my face and kisses me soundly. "Were you always this insane?"

"It's gotten worse with age."

He throws back his head and laughs, but when he looks at me again, his expression is warm and tender.

"Absolutely nothing about you has gotten worse with age. And trust me, it won't be a non-moment. Not for me, at least. But don't you dare say it now," he warns one last time.

I roll my eyes.

OOOOOOOOOO

Newport Beach, California is about an hour south of L.A., about forty miles or so Edward tells me. We make our way there just as the sun begins to set over the City of Angels, painting the skyline in beautiful streaks of blues and violets interspersed with orange clouds and all cocooned by a deep, yellow sky. With the traffic on the highway (excuse me, _freeway_ , as Edward quickly corrects me), it would again be almost another page taken out of your typical New York City afternoon – except, of course, for the swaying palm trees – you can't ignore those swaying palm trees. And while the drive isn't quite as picturesque as the one we took yesterday to the cliffs or earlier today, California's beauty is undeniable (especially in a convertible).

Edward is animated and verbal throughout the drive, providing me with tidbits on many of the landmarks we pass as well as cultural differences from town to town. He points out Santa Ana, one of the oldest cities in California. He reminds me that the I-5, an over two thousand mile route, also runs through Oregon and Washington. He points out the exit to Disneyland. He tells me of the play on Orange County's (the _OC_ , as I'm to call it if I don't want to stand out) name - which is where Newport Beach is located. The locals call it the Orange Curtain because of the county's more suburban population versus L.A.'s more urban population. Yet despite how enthusiastic and eager he is, he's laid-back and comfortable in the setting, as if the entire scene fits him like a glove.

He's a California boy through and through.

About an hour later, we pull off of the Costa Mesa Highway (shit, _Freeway_ ) to the quieter roads of the town of Newport Beach, twisting and turning until we turn into a driveway where Edward shifts into park and with a quiet breath, looks up.

The house is an English, cottage style home in white stucco with a gray, shingled roof and an attic room with a horizontal window mid roof. A massive, stone chimney claims most of the left side of the house while a bow window claims the centerpiece. Well-maintained, colorful plants and evergreen shrubbery surround it all. A low-lying tree provides shade off to the side with a wide, white trunk and sturdy branches which look like they're just begging to be climbed. A white-wood pergola built off of the house leads to a white picket fence which appears to lead to the back yard.

Now, my townhouse in Manhattan is nothing to sneeze at, but it's more comfortable, old money than fairytale, beach-town.

"Edward…"

He looks at me and lifts one corner of his mouth. "Ready to take a look inside?"

"Yeah."

I look around the neighborhood while he pulls our bags from the trunk. The houses are far apart enough to give everyone privacy while close enough so that when the woman in the house to the right currently swinging in her porch swing spots Edward, her eyes widen in appreciation.

"Hi, Edward!"

"How are you, Mrs. Lewis?"

"Wonderful!" She studies me through narrow, curious, and none-too-subtle eyes as Edward takes my hand and leads me up to the door, smiling at Mrs. Lewis.

"This is my girlfriend: Bella. Bella, my neighbor: Mrs. Lewis."

"Oh! Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too."

When Edward opens the door, I draw in a breath and grin because Jesus Christ, the fairy tale continues indoors. In the center of the foyer is a spiral, wooden staircase which leads to an open second story. The foyer itself flows seamlessly from the front entrance into the living room, with the stone fireplace to the left, the dining room to the right and behind the staircase, and the kitchen – where I head immediately – behind the living room.

I think I may cry happy tears when I walk into the kitchen: all white, custom cabinetry with a huge kitchen island, marble countertops and immaculately shiny stainless steel appliances.

"Can I say it now?" I breathe.

He chuckles. "Shut up, Bella."

OOOOOOOOOO

Edward shows me around the rest of the house, which is just as lovely as those first rooms. Four great bedrooms upstairs: his master, Anthony's room, an office, and an exercise room. Each room has its own bathroom, but the master bathroom is definitely the showstopper with dark wood cabinets and black marble counters. The shower stall is almost as roomy as the one in our hotel room the evening before.

"You must've had fun in this bathroom throughout the years," I murmur, staring at the ceramic, white stand-alone tub, which can cozily fit two.

When I look at him, his expression is inscrutable. He turns around and heads back to the bedroom, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and holding a hand out to me.

"It's been a long day. You want to take a nap before dinner?"

I shrug my shoulders and take the proffered seat on his lap. I am actually exhausted. For a while, we hold one another's gaze silently.

"Edward, how'd you end up here? What made you move out of Washington?"

His eyes remain locked on mine, chest heaving as he undoes the buttons on my blouse, sliding it off of me before reaching behind to pull down the zipper on my skirt. I stand up quickly to allow it to fall to the wood floors and then stand between his legs. With a soft smile, he picks me up by the waist and situates me over the soft covers while he removes his own clothing. Once in his boxers, he lies next to me, and we turn to our sides.

"Let me tell you a story."

"Go ahead."

"There was this guy once, and…he did things of which you already know, things which left him with a broken heart he fully deserved. But that wasn't enough for him," he says tightly. "I…I messed up for a while, Bella," he swallows, "drugs, and failing grades, and...relationships which weren't real relationships."

"Edward…" I breathe, pushing my fingers through his hair, heartbroken because while he was falling apart…I was putting my life back together.

He takes my hand and kisses it. "Then he found out he was going to be a father."

I close my eyes and swallow through the lump in my throat.

"Tanya…I blamed her for what happened that day in the dorm room. I never said it out loud, but I blamed her even though _I_ was the one who owed you my love and loyalty. So a few months later, when I finally did let her catch me, it was only physical, and she knew it. I refused to give her the commitment, the loyalty she craved, the commitment I should've given _you_."

A silent tear rolls down my cheek.

"The thing is, she didn't really want me; what she wanted was the victory, the total win. I suppose it was the lawyer in her," he snorts.

"And then she got pregnant."

"Then she got pregnant."

"Did she…do it on purpose?"

Eyes locked on mine, he shakes his head slowly. "Bella, she didn't want him."

Everyone has a right to make their own choices, yes. I fully believe that. But knowing the boy of whom we're speaking…it makes my chest tighten painfully.

Edward's next words mirror my thoughts. "I begged her to keep him, Bella. At that point, I promised her the world on a silver platter. And I fully intended to try. I cleaned up my act, and I gave her all I could, but it was never enough. She was never happy, never satisfied, and looking back on our relationship now, I suppose I can't blame her. I'd forced her into something I fully knew she didn't really want, and then I just went through the motions with her."

"Until Anthony," I whisper.

"Until Anthony," he nods. "When my son was born…"

I cup his cheek in my hand, stroking his stubbly skin with my thumb. "I know, Edward. I know the feeling."

He sighs. "So you see why I can't completely blame her for how things turned out. Once Anthony was born, my life improved while hers just went downhill. So before he was even two, we called it quits. We'd moved to L.A. when Tanya finished college because her parents lived there, but then after the divorce, Anthony and I moved over here. No matter what, I didn't want him to be too far from his-"

"Wait. Anthony and you moved here?"

Edward nods.

"Anthony grew up with _you_?"

Again, he nods while I try to make sense of it all. But then…I realize it all makes sense.

"So she didn't raise Anthony."

"No."

"And she never lived in this house?"

"No," he chuckles quietly. "We lived in a smaller place when we moved here, then as the business grew, we got this place."

We're both quiet for a while. Edward reaches out and pulls me into his arms, and I rest my head on his chest, sighing deeply. He kisses the top of my head, his fingers languidly running up and down my side, tracing my ribs.

"No woman has ever slept in this house, Bella – well, apart from my mom," he snorts.

I look up at him, surprise evident in the roundness of my eyes. "Really?"

"Really. I'm not saying I haven't had sex in the past two decades. I'm just saying I haven't brought them here."

"Why?"

He shrugs. "When Anthony was living with me, I simply didn't want to bring random women in and out of the house. Just like I told you I'd never make love to you in the home you shared with Sam, I didn't want this place – the home where I was bringing up my son - to be somewhere I brought home random women I wanted to fuck," he says plainly. "To teach him respect, I had to lead by example. I wanted to teach him to be a better man than I'd been, to take commitment seriously."

"And once he went to college?"

"Once he went to college…" My chest rises and falls with his deep breath, "Bella, I never really imagined that you and I would end up together again. I'd be lying if I said I did. I mean, I used to dream about you, but they were more dreams of what could've been rather than what I thought could still be, but yet…"

"Yet what?"

"I told myself that if I ever brought a woman to this house, it would be the woman I'd spend the rest of my life with. I wouldn't want her to picture another woman in this house…just as I wouldn't want to lie in the same bed as the husband she once loved."

I close my eyes, so full of…love and respect for him.

"So you see, no woman has ever walked through that front door hand in hand with me or bathed in that Jacuzzi…or lain in this bed."

When I rest my head back on his chest, a few uneven sighs escape me.

"What are you thinking?" he asks.

"I'm thinking of how differently everything actually was from how I thought it to be when I first met Anthony a couple of months ago. I'm thinking…of those words you won't let me say."

He chuckles and squeezes my ass cheek. "Go to sleep, Bella."

OOOOOOOOOO

When I wake up nestled in Edward's arms, the room is dark except for a lamp he must've turned on at some point. The clock on the nightstand indicates it's a few minutes past nine. In my head, I automatically make the time difference calculations for New York: past midnight.

The rumbling of my stomach reminds me that I haven't had dinner. Carefully so as not to wake him, I pull away from Edward's embrace and pick up my blouse, sliding my arms through it. Then I make my way downstairs.

Once in the kitchen, I open the fridge, and I'm not at all surprised to find it mostly empty. He's a man living on his own. I do manage to dig up some processed cheese, a tub of butter, a few packets of mustard and a pickle jar. As I pull it all out to see what magic I can actually make, I feel a little tug at my heart picturing him and Anthony doing for themselves all these years.

It's a sparse kitchen, but it's neat and clean, which I'm thoroughly grateful for because I can't stand a dirty kitchen. There's bread which hasn't yet expired in the bread box, and I end up with two grilled cheese as dinner – one for me and one for Edward. I eat mine at the kitchen counter while returning a few emails I've received in the past couple of hours.

When I'm done, and Edward still hasn't come down, I wrap up his grilled cheese in foil I find in the walk-in pantry and decide to explore the back yard.

As I step outside into the warm evening and find an oasis awaiting me, my mouth falls open. Stamped concrete floors lead to a patio with elegant yet comfy-looking wicker furnishings, a built-in grill, a built-in fire-pit, and beyond it all, an in-ground pool with an attached hot tub - all of it lit up for the night.

"Oh good lord," I chuckle to myself because I might as well be in a tropical resort. Edward and I decided we'd spend the night here before beginning our trip back to New York tomorrow. But after speaking to his friend and business partner, Jasper, on our way over, Edward decided to go to work in the morning to take care of a few odds and ends. Therefore, we'll begin our trip later in the day. At the time, I agreed even though internally, I would've preferred to head out earlier.

Yet the more time I spend here, the easier it becomes to picture myself spending days and days exploring, months and months…years and years…

Eager to feel the sparkling pool water, I cautiously pad over on bare feet, praying the neighbors can't see me in my underwear and open blouse. When I kneel and dip a finger into the warm water, I couldn't care less what anyone sees, especially as a warm and tingling sensation runs up and down my spine.

"Want to go in?" a low voice murmurs in my ear.

I close my eyes and smile. "I didn't bring a swimsuit."

Edward sweeps my hair to the side, and I release a few uneven breaths when his soft lips brush over the nape of my neck. "You don't need one," he breathes against my sensitive skin. "You see those trees? They hide everything. No one will see you…or me, if we forego swimsuits."

"You mean skinny-dip?" I feign more shock and hesitancy than I actually feel.

"Yes," he snorts, his mouth ghosting across my shoulders. "I mean skinny-dip."

I don't actually make any response, not a verbal one, at least as Edward takes my hand and stands me up. He once more removes my blouse, throwing it over a deck chair before leading me to the pool's steps. Hand in hand, we walk into the heated water, stopping when only my head is above.

His shoulders rise and fall, his chest glowing by the moonlight. "Does the water feel good?"

"It feels amazing."

For the next half hour or so, we quietly play around in the pool, swimming and kissing by the edges. He walks out for a moment, his body wet and glistening, and plays with a remote resting on the patio table. Soon, Jason Wade's gritty voice erupts from the Bluetooth speakers surrounding the pool.

When he wades back into the pool, his erection strains against his wet boxers. Waist-deep, he pulls down the boxers, and my breath hitches, the muscles between my thighs tightening. I gasp when he pushes me against the pool ledge and crashes his mouth to mine.

We kiss, and I take him in my hand, pumping him underwater. He groans as his mouth trails a wet path down my neck and to my ear, singing softly.

 _"You take all of me now. I'm falling even more in love with you..."_

"Edward…"

"Not now. Surprise me," he chuckles in my ear before unclasping my bra and dipping his mouth to my breast, sucking softly on my nipple.

I throw back my head and fist his wet hair in one hand. "Are you sure no one can see us?"

"No one can see, baby." He licks his way from one breast to the other, "I wouldn't let anyone see us this way." While he makes his promises, he pushes down my panties, and with no further words and no resistance from me, he picks me up and pushes himself inside. The water around us splashes quietly while he thrusts, and I wrap my legs tightly around his waist.

"If you won't let me say it yet, _ohhh_ , let me say this: don't ever stop making love to me," I whimper against his neck.

"I promise. I never will."

OOOOOOOOOO

I wake up the next morning tangled in Edward's sheets, arms, and legs. When I look at the clock, it's quarter to six – quarter to nine my time and way past the time I'm usually still in bed. But as I look up at the man snoring next to me, his mouth slightly parted and his arm wrapped tightly around my waist, I can't find it in me to care.

Eventually, I do feel the need to get up. We've got another busy day ahead of us. Edward will be going into work for a short while, while I…well, I'll be exploring his wonderful house some more.

Once again, Edward barely shifts as I untangle myself from him. He's a heavy sleeper, I see. It's funny, all the new things I'm learning about him. Sitting up on the bed, I check my morning messages: one from Alice just checking in, one from Stephen from LAC letting me know how happy he is that we worked everything out, one from Aro, which I'll open later, one from Jay which I'll totally ignore, and one from Nessie with a picture of this morning's creation – California Sweetheart Rolls with Orange Marmalade and Cinnamon. I laugh at the name. Darn kids.

After a quick shower in the gorgeous bathroom, I emerge into the bedroom and find Edward still sleeping, still naked, and still snoring. Heavy fucking sleeper, indeed.

Chuckling quietly to myself, I throw on a pair of shorts and a tee shirt and make my way back down to the kitchen – which has quickly become my second favorite room in this house after the bedroom. All the love-making has me with a serious appetite, and after another search through the fridge and pantry, I'm elated to discover that despite the meager pickings, Edward does have all the ingredients necessary for scone-making – even if they're not actually the brands _I'd_ buy.

With the sunlight streaming in through the large bay window in the kitchen, I hum a tune to myself while I organize everything I'll need: bowls, flour, wooden spoons, and such. Just as I'm cutting my butter into the flour, two quick knocks at the back door precede the entrance of a tall, blond and lanky man.

For about three seconds, the New Yorker in me freezes in terror while the intruder grins and takes a step forward. My hand tightens around the wooden spoon.

"Hey, little lady. You must be Bella."

It takes me a couple of more seconds before I put two and two together.

"And you must be…Jasper?" I guess, choosing to ignore the _little lady_ line. "At least I hope you are because I'm not sure how much damage I can do with this wooden spoon."

His cheeks flush as if he's just realized the error of bounding into someone's house unannounced – or perhaps this is normal behavior in Newport Beach; I don't know.

"I'm sorry," he says, chuckling. "I guess a knock is only useful if you actually wait for someone to invite you in."

"Don't worry about it," I smile. "I've just lived in New York for a long time. You don't do that over there unless you want to be on the evening news."

He laughs.

"Come in," I offer. "Edward's still sleeping."

Jasper takes a few steps further into the kitchen, stopping just in front of the kitchen island.

"Yeah, it's early, but I figured I'd drop by and see if he wanted a ride to the office. I know he's got quite a bit of driving ahead of him today so I thought I'd save him some."

"Well, that's very thoughtful of you," I say, adding in the salt and granulated sugar into the bowl as I speak because scones are not a pastry you can fall asleep on. "And don't worry about it; I do plan to share the driving with him. No way I'm not getting behind the wheel of _that_ beauty."

Jasper snorts. "It _is_ a great car." Then he just stands there.

"Would you like some breakfast, Jasper? I'm making fresh scones; though, there's no Nutella around so they'll just have to be plain ones."

There's about a second of hesitation before he responds. "Sounds good. From what I hear, you're the best darn pastry chef from coast to coast – literally." Again, he smiles, but I can't help but pick up on the cool undercurrent in his words or on the way he just stands there for a few more moments before stiffly taking a seat across from me. "So it's been a crazy few days for you and Ed, huh?"

I keep my eyes glued to the ingredients I'm mixing.

"It's been a crazy few weeks."

"I've heard. He's been flying coast to coast, making apologies left and right for things he did over two decades ago, calling in favors, handing off accounts, and taking more time off from the office to drive you home. Sure does sound like a crazy few weeks to me."

I stop mixing. With a deep breath, I lift my eyes back to Jasper.

"You dropped by early knowing he'd still be sleeping and probably figured I'd be awake due to the time difference between here and New York."

"I did." He grins without apology. "Ed is my buddy. I've known him since before Tony was born. He was this newlywed guy married to a real bitch and trying to figure himself out before his kid came. Now I don't know exactly what kind of guy he was back when you were with him. He says he was a shitty boyfriend, and I guess based on a couple of the things he's told me, he probably was. I guess he's got shit to make up for when it comes to you."

"You want to make sure I'm not taking advantage of him."

"Ed has always been good at feeling guilty – he thrives on it or some shit. In his own way, it's a driving force for him, pushes him to succeed, motivates him to be better. Like I said, I suppose he does have some making up to do when it comes to you, but it's got to stop somewhere."

"I know that deal which he and Anthony made yesterday wasn't good business for Masen & Son…or for you."

"Trust me," he snorts, turning his gaze to the window where the California sun is beginning to rise, its muted rays seeping into the kitchen, "I don't care about the deal. He and Tony asked me to help get it done," he shrugs, "I helped get it done. But like I said," his gaze sweeps back to me, " _the making-it-up-to-you_ portion of this summer has to stop somewhere."

Fuck no, he didn't.

"Jasper," I sigh, "I'm not sure what you expect me to say here. While I appreciate your concern for Edward-"

"I don't need your appreciation, Bella-"

"And I don't need your approval, Jasper."

For a few seconds, we just stare at one another. Then he lifts a brow.

"No, you sure don't need my approval. Ed is his own man."

"And you're his friend," I say in a more conciliatory tone. "I understand that, and I _do_ appreciate your concern. I've got a friend back home who I can see trying to pull some similar shit with Edward when she meets him, based on the information _she_ has," I smile. "And if I hear about it, I'll tell her the same thing I'm going to tell you: If I need your advice, I'll ask for it. How Edward and I resolve our issues is between us and _no one_ else because only he and I will ever have the full story. Now he can seek your advice as much as he wants, just as I'll seek my girl's advice when I need it, but he doesn't need to answer to her, and I sure as hell won't answer to you."

He's got these sky blue eyes, which remain locked on mine for an interminable minute. The smile that eventually lifts the corners of his mouth reveals a great set of teeth – and it's also devoid of any humor. He'd actually be quite a good-looking guy if he wasn't such an asshole.

"Little lady, you're a tough cookie; I'll give you that."

Fucking hell _, little lady_ and _tough cookie_ in one sentence? He's so damn lucky Alice isn't here. The feminist in her would be punching him in his junk right about now.

"And that'll have to be enough," I nod, "because that's about all you're getting from me."

"Well, alright then," he says with a lazy drawl. Yet despite everything, I think I detect a tentative, almost begrudging note of respect in his gaze. He stands up suddenly and gives me a little bow which I try desperately not to laugh at. I mean, seriously, what year is he living in?

"Think I'll go wait for Ed outside for a bit. Just do me a favor and let him know I'm in the car when he wakes up, yeah, little lady?"

"Jasper," I sigh. When he turns back to me, I give him my best Michael Corleone glare of warning in his epic ' _I'll let you ask me about my business this one time'_ speech.

"I have no agenda which includes any sort of _make-it-up-to-me_ summer, and _that_ is absolutely all you'll be getting from me," I stress. "Unless you still want to hang around for a scone. I'll give you a scone."

A much wider grin spreads across Jasper's face. "And I will take a scone; you can send it to the office with Edward if you're still willing. Take care… _Bella_. I guess I'll be seeing you around."

"Yes, you will, _Jasper._ "

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **The song which Edward was singing to Bella in the pool:** _ **Hanging**_ _ **by**_ _ **a**_ _ **Moment**_ **by Lifehouse. Sexy-ass song.**

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817.**


	25. Chapter 25 - Already Miss You

**A/N: Thanks so much for your wonderful thoughts. :)**

 **Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes. (Though all remaining mistakes are mine).**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 25 – Already Miss You**

 **EPOV**

 _My wife pulls into the driveway. She parks and steps out of the SUV, gazing up and smiling at the tree just to the side of the house. The boys love climbing that tree._

" _Anthony, honey, come help me bring in the groceries!"_

" _Sure, Mom!"_

 _Twelve-year-old Anthony, our eldest son, bounds into the scene from the backyard, bouncing the trusty basketball he's rarely without. The four of us tend to spend hours and hours out front shooting hoops on the court I set up for him. Now, however, he throws the ball aside and strides to the car's trunk, gingerly hefting a grocery bag in each arm. When his mom makes a move to pick up the third and last bag, he nudges her aside and balances that one too. She laughs and kisses his cheek, tousling his ruddy-brown hair._

 _He flushes, rolling eyes the same brown as his mother's as he walks toward the house. The eye roll is a habit he's inherited from her and something he doesn't dare do in front of me._

" _Dad says girls should never carry bags if there's a man around."_

" _Goodness, what a gentleman, and you're getting to be as strong as your dad too!"_

 _Despite the flip gesture from a moment ago, a smug, crooked grin (inherited from me) lifts up on one corner of his mouth at the comparison._

" _And just as handsome!" she adds as they walk into the kitchen, her brown eyes sparkling with pride. "Where's little Anthony?" she asks while they unload the groceries together._

" _In the pool. Where else would he be?"_

 _The pool is to young Anthony as the basketball court is to his older brother._

" _I hope he hasn't been out there by himself all this time. He's only nine, Anthony."_

"' _Course he hasn't, Mom. What kind of irresponsible guy do you take me for? I was out there with him."_

 _My wife chuckles and pinches his cheek. "You're a great big brother. All right, now please go tell him to get ready for dinner. Dad will be home from the office soon, and we can all eat outside on the patio. Afterward, we can try today's Swan Bellies creation, then work it off by shooting some b-ball before finishing the evening with some swimming. How does that sound?"_

" _That sounds just about perfect, Mom," Anthony grins. Bouncing his basketball on the wood floors, he runs to the backyard to get his brother._

" _And don't bounce that ball in the house!" she reminds him, shaking her head, but the love shining in her eyes pretty much negates the vehemence of her words. She moves around the kitchen she adores, stocking pantries and cabinets, which are never bare because she makes sure her family is always well taken care of. Even with her own successful business, her family is_ _ **always**_ _her priority._

 _When I arrive a short while later, the boys are still outside, and she's in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on dinner, humming a song from one of the bands we used to love back in the day when we were kids in Seattle._

 _My heart swells at the sight of her._

 _Silently, I walk up behind and slide my arms around her waist, burying my face against her soft neck while breathing in her sweet, sexy, and incomparable scent, knowing that no matter how long we've been together, I'll never get tired of coming home to her and our family._

 _She chuckles huskily and melts against me, her warm body contouring itself perfectly to mine as it has all these years we've been together. She reaches up and slides her warm hands around the nape of my neck._

" _Bella…baby, I've missed you so much," I breathe, brushing my lips over her ear._

 _She moans quietly, grinding her ass against my hardened cock. She's a smart, independent businesswoman, a caring mother, and an eager and thrilling lover._

" _Welcome home, Edward. I've missed you too."_

My eyes open slowly, her scent and taste lingering on my lips and tongue. For two seconds, when I realize I'm alone in my bed, my heart constricts. A dream, that's all it was. It was different and a bit more complicated than the dreams I've had of her throughout the years, but it was a dream nonetheless, containing all those impossibilities for which dreams are known: the unlikeliness of same-named sons, the impossibility of the woman I loved being the mother of one of them, and the dismissal of the fact that she once loved another man and that she created a beautiful, young woman with him.

That's when it hits me: her scent and her taste…they linger because they've actually been here. I made love to her in this very room, on this very bed until late into the night, and though I've woken to a bed without her, she's here somewhere. Yes, it was a dream, but it was a dream mixed with reality, a dream of what could've been jumbled with my heart's deepest desires.

Seventy-two hours ago, I was a man who'd only ever fathered one son. I was a man in love with a woman who was having a hard time opening up and committing. I was a man living in a fucking great but lonely as hell house with no idea if or when I'd ever share that house with someone who could love it as much as I do.

Now, in a matter of days, I've learned I was once father to a boy who never took his first breath. Bella has opened up to me about…well, about absolutely everything. And last but not least, she's _here…_ in my house, in the house that's been waiting all these years for the missing piece…for _her_ to turn it into a home.

In less than a day since her arrival, I've watched Bella walk through every room as if she's always belonged in them. She's made sandwiches in the kitchen, snuggled next to me in front of the living room fireplace, swam and made love with me in the pool, and shared my bed... _our_ bed. She's marked more than just me at this point; she's wrapped herself around every facet of my life.

And now, I have no idea how I'm supposed to let her return to New York.

The alarm goes off on the bedside table, and I take a deep breath as I reach over and turn it off before heading to the bathroom for a shower. It's almost a shame to wash off the scent of our lovemaking, but knowing she's here now…Jesus, she's in my house, and I can make love to her again without it being just a dream. She's really and truly _here_ …

And making something fucking delicious in that kitchen based on the scent wafting up from there.

My mind is still a fucking riot of confused thoughts, as the dream clearly indicated. I almost had a son I'll never know, a son who I'll only ever be able to imagine in dreams. I'm still having a hard time accepting the fact that there was nothing I could've done, that the decades-long separation between Bella and me was unavoidable…and necessary. She tells me that our son was only meant for our hearts. My head tells me that _my_ Anthony was always meant to be mothered by someone else so that he could find his future in _her_ Nessie.

In my head, I know these things. But in my heart…the dream lingers.

OOOOOOOOOO

And the dream, or at least one part of it, replays itself a few minutes later when I walk into the kitchen and find Bella pulling something out of the wall oven while humming to herself. For a few seconds, I just stand there and watch her moving around with such ease.

"Now where does he keep the…" she murmurs to herself. " _Ahh_ , there they are." She bends over to get something from one of the cabinets and gives me a bird's eye view of those ass cheeks I worshipped with both my hands and mouth last night. God, just thinking of the things we've done in the past few days has me straining against my boxers…again. "Who the heck keeps these here?"

I quietly snort to myself as I walk up behind her and slide my arms around her waist, burying my face into her neck – just as I did in the dream.

" _I smell your skin on the empty pillow next to mine…"_ I sing softly in her ear. "Smells delicious; though, I take it you don't approve of my kitchen organization skills?"

She melts against me, just as she did in the dream. When she turns around in my arms and slides her hands around my neck, she looks up at me with an impish grin.

"They're shit; however, the kitchen itself more than makes up for them, as does your music collection and the Bluetooth speakers you've got absolutely everywhere."

"I'm glad you approve of the house itself…and of my music."

 _Now if I can just convince you that you belong here forever._

My mouth finds hers, and she makes these quiet little sounds of pleasure as our tongues dance together, reminding me of the sounds she's been making for the past few days, sounds which go straight to my cock.

"I'm ready to lift you onto this counter and fulfill yet another fantasy," I admit against her lips.

"Mmm, maybe later," she breathes when she comes up for air. "You have an office to get to this morning, and I have some work to do as well. Speaking of work, I need your Wi-Fi password. What?" She grins curiously at the look I'm giving her.

"It's just…" I shake my head slowly. "I could get used to this, Bella – all of it."

She swallows thickly, holding my gaze as she cups my cheek. "Come on, let's get the day started. We've got a long drive ahead of us this afternoon."

I really hope the grin I give her hides my disappointment. I mean, come on, I can't expect her to jump in with both feet overnight. And I fully realize that on top of it all, I'm the one keeping her from saying those three little words. But I don't need them laced with one iota of gratitude for helping her with the contract or sympathy at my just learning of our son or guilt related to her dead husband. And I sure as hell don't want to pressure her into being the one to make the move. She's got a life over there; I get that. And if she decides she can't be the one to switch coasts, I'll find a way to get my ass over there, even though to me, _this_ is what would make the most sense for us to be able to truly begin again.

On the east coast, she was Sam's wife. Here, she'd be all mine. And if I do end up going over there, there's no way we'd live in the house she once shared with him.

It sounds selfish and jealous even in mind, but I've never pretended to be anything other with the ones I love.

And at the same time, there's the very valid argument to be made that Anthony and Nessie are deeply involved, deeply in love, and most likely planning to build a future here because from what I've seen and heard, Nessie loves California.

So what will be on the east coast for Bella other than her business and memories of her husband?

Her friends, her independence.

"What are you thinking?" she asks, her brow furrowing.

"Nothing," I smile, kissing the tip of her nose. "Or rather, things we can discuss later."

She nods slowly, but I get the feeling she has an idea.

"Okay. I made scones." Her tone is conciliatory, an " _I can't give you a promise of having me in this house forever, but I can give you scones."_

So I make my own peace offering – for now. "All right. I'll take them." She kisses me tenderly before turning around to get my scones ready. "They really do smell wonderful. I can't believe you found the ingredients you needed." Leaning against the counter, I cross my arms against my chest while I watch her pack up the scones.

"They're pretty basic ingredients even a house run by men would have on hand."

"That's a lot of scones you're sending me."

"You can share with Jasper. Just make sure you let him know they're not poisoned."

When I lift a brow, she clarifies. "He was here a short while ago."

"You met Jasper?"

" _Oh_ _yeah_ ," she snorts. "I met Jasper."

The way she says it instantly gets my hackles up. Jasper is my buddy, but he can be rough around the edges.

I push myself off the counter. "What happened? Did he say something stupid? He can be a bit of a…

"Chauvinistic pig?"

"I was going to say nosy numb nut, but that also works." Sighing, I rake a hand through my hair while she watches me, her eyes twinkling with amusement, which I guess, all things considered, is a good sign. "Bella…I don't know what he said, but-"

"Hey," she smiles, sliding her arms around my waist. "It was no big deal, seriously, just a few _little ladys_ here and there with a _tough cookie_ thrown in for good measure."

All the while, I shake my head. "I swear, he's not as much of an asshole as he sometimes makes himself seem. He's smart as hell, and he's a great guy at heart; he just has no idea how to talk to women without making himself sound like a prick."

"Well, he did a good job of that," she chuckles.

"That fucking-"

"Stop," she laughs. "Look, I'm sure he's a great guy; otherwise, you wouldn't be friends with him. He was trying to look out for you. I get it, and I respect it."

Now I'm going to kill that meddling motherfucker because _now_ it sounds like he was being more than a chauvinistic pig. "Bella, if he stepped out of line-"

"He did _not_ step out of line. Hey." She must sense how pissed off I'm getting because she cradles my jaw between her fingers and forces my eyes back to her. "Don't fight with your friend. I think he got the picture that I'm _not_ a little lady; though, the _tough cookie_ comment I'll accept. I am a tough cookie. Besides, I think he meant that one as a compliment. Watch," she grins, "in a few months, two or three years at the most, he and I are going to be the best of friends."

Despite the fact that I'm still going to have a couple of words with that interfering bastard, she manages to make me laugh. What's more, though I don't even know if she realizes what she's saying, if she plans to be friends with Jasper in two or three years…well, she's gotta be around to be friends with him, right?

"Edward, are you sure driving me home won't be a problem for you?"

"Not at all." My hands wander beyond her hips, under her shorts to her plump ass. "I'm a boss too, Bella," I grin, "and I can take off as much time as I want."

"Neither one of us can take off as much as we want, Edward. We both have responsibilities."

"Bella, what's going on?"

"I just…" her eyes sweep away from me for a couple of seconds before she brings them back. "I don't want you to do things because you think you've got to make up the past to me."

"I do have to make up the past to you."

Apparently, it's the wrong thing to say. She drops her hands from my waist and backs away from me, sighing heavily.

"I don't want to live in the past, Edward."

I take a step forward. Distance between us, in any shape or form, is something I can no longer deal with.

"Neither do I, Bella. But neither can we ignore the past. I wasn't there when you needed me, and-"

"Edward, you can't keep trying to make things up to me for the rest of our lives. It was…difficult, but I got through it, and now you have to let it go."

Closing my eyes, I swallow and rake a hand through my hair. "I know I do, Bella, but I can't do it overnight."

She's the one to completely close the gap between us, her soft chest resting against mine as she looks up at me pleadingly. "I know you can't, but I don't want it to take you years."

"Again, neither do I." I offer her a faint smile. "But…I have you, and that's more than you had. You went through it all by yourself." My voice shakes with emotion, picturing her all hurt, sad, and lonely.

"I _wasn't_ by myself Edward, so please stop seeing it that way. I had Alice…and I had Sam."

Her words are meant to offer me comfort, to assure me that she wasn't suffering on her own, to erase that image from my mind so that I can move forward from the pain and guilt. And while maybe an hour later, or even ten minutes might help me receive them as the consolation they're meant to be, at that moment, that's not how I take them.

"Bella, I've never begrudged you your love for Sam, and I never will, so please don't take this to mean that I'm belittling your relationship with him in any way. He was your husband, the father of your child," I swallow through the lump in my throat, "and from what I've seen and heard, he treasured you." Despite my efforts to remain calm, my chest heaves. "But after you lost _our_ child, it was my responsibility, and it should've been my _right_ – not Sam's – to be the one there for you."

A shadow of pain crosses her features, and when she shuts her eyes to hide her distress from me, I'm wracked by wave after wave of remorse.

"Oh God, baby, I'm-"

"No," she whispers. When she reopens her eyes, they're glassy despite the smile on her lips. She presses her fingers to my own lips. "Don't, Edward. Don't. That's not what I want from you."

A long silence envelops us.

"Look…on our way back to New York, would you mind if we made a stop in Phoenix? There's something…I'd like to show you."

OOOOOOOOOO

When I arrive at the office, I find Jasper in the small conference room on his laptop.

Taking a seat across from him, I set the foil package between us and wait. It only takes him a few seconds to languidly lift his gaze to me, grinning.

"Scones?"

"Scones."

He sighs and reaches out, carefully unwrapping the package. "Ed, I'm not sure what she told you-"

"She said she can see herself being friends with you in the future." Leaning back against the chair, I lock my hands together behind my head – to make sure I don't reach out and lock them around his neck. "I'd actually like to see that happen," I admit, "if I don't fucking kill you first."

Despite the threat, he chuckles, stuffing a scone in his mouth and chewing methodically.

"Yeah, well, I'd probably deserve it," he shrugs. "Hey, these are pretty good."

"Jasper…" With a deep breath, I drop my hands to the table and lean in. "I've been taking a lot of time off, yeah, and you've been left here holding everything together. And that deal the other day probably doesn't make a whole lot of sense from your end-"

"Like I told her," he grins, reaching for another scone, "it's got nothing to do with-"

"My point is, Jasper, whatever you have to say, say it to me, not her. If and when the day comes when you and she are the best buddies she predicts you'll be, then you can have a talk with her. Until then, you come to me."

He watches me, chewing his scone. "Shit," he snorts.

"And just for the record, I have no idea what you two spoke about."

His eyes widen, and he bobs his head slowly, reaching for the third and next-to-last scone.

"Well, all right then."

"Leave that fucking scone alone. Two is more than enough for you, asshole."

He chuckles heartily and withdraws his hand.

OOOOOOOOOO

By late morning, I'm already on my way back home. Truth is, despite the time I've taken off, I haven't been neglecting work. I've spent my time in New York attending necessary meetings, and in this day and age, working remotely is sometimes even more productive than heading into an office full of distractions.

I've also left things resolved with Jasper in regards to both our business and personal relationship. He may be a bit of a jerk at times, but what a lot of people don't realize is that he's an easy, laid-back sort of guy who couldn't hold a grudge against a fly – unless that fly hurt someone he cared about. I think the fact that Bella didn't disclose their conversation has left him with a bit of respect for her as well. (Those fucking delicious scones didn't hurt either.)

When I arrive at the house, I look up at the exterior, and a huge grin breaks out across my face, knowing who's waiting for me inside.

"Bella!" I call out, amazed at the fact that the scene is reality and not a dream. I've really just arrived home and am calling out for her.

Yet there's no answer. As I go from room to room searching for her, I marvel at the fact that every room already feels different, already contains her scent and her touch. The kitchen, though sparse to begin with, looks like it's been slightly rearranged. The coffee machine is on the opposite end of the counter as is the blender. There are kitchen towels hanging from the stove and two, not one, coffee cups drying by the sink.

"Bella?"

I do panic for a few seconds, but only for a few as I make my way upstairs. When I walk into the bedroom, I hear the shower running, her voice softly singing along with the bathroom speakers. Smiling, I knock on the bathroom door.

"Bella?"

"I'll be right out!"

For two seconds, I consider joining her, but shit, I've got to let the woman bathe by herself once in a while. So instead, I sit on the bed and wait, removing my shirt and tie, my shoulders deflating at the sight of her bag sitting on top of the bed, already open and containing most of her items.

When she does emerge, she's wrapped in a towel, her hair loose and wet around her shoulders. Jesus, how am I supposed to let her go?

She stands by the door for a few moments, and I'm slightly mollified by the fact that she looks as downcast as I feel. Instinctively, I reach out a hand, wanting more than anything to erase that sadness from her features.

She moves closer and takes my hands, standing between my legs. "How was your morning?"

"Productive. I promise, no one will miss me while I'm gone," I tease. "How was yours?"

"Productive as well. Got a lot of work done." She gives me a sheepish grin. "I may have rearranged a few things around the house…for Feng Shui purposes."

My hands move up to her hips. "Bella, you won't hear me complaining."

She chuckles, but that sad, little look spreads across her face again. "Hey," I whisper, still afraid to spook her away, "this doesn't have to be temporary."

"I do know that," she whispers back. "But I have…I have a lot to think about. I've built a life for myself in New York."

Sighing, I pull her in closer, and even when she lets the towel fall, I hold her gaze, committing the moment to memory.

"Let me love you on our bed once more."

She nods wordlessly, sliding her hands through my hair. Our mouths find one another, moving with a languidness as if neither one of us can bear to rush through this moment. My mouth trails moist kisses down her neck and across her shoulders, to her sweet nipples and on to her smooth stomach. Her hands unbuckle my belt and open my fly, and I lift up my lower half so she can slide them down my legs. When I push myself onto the bed, I bring her along, and she straddles me. Eyes still on mine, she eases over me, and I thrust inside, going slowly though my heart races. At first, she rocks over me unhurriedly, lifting her hips at a pace that magnifies every last inch of me as I move in and out of her. Her moans and cries are fainter than the anxious cries of the previous days, though no less intense.

"Let me…"

It's all I manage to say as I flip us over and lift one of her legs over my hip, thrusting deep and slow, grinding my hips into her. When we were younger, she couldn't take me in all the way, but now…I push myself in to the hilt.

"Oh fuck, I love you, Bella." They're not the prettiest words, but by the way she whimpers, I know she understands their deeper meaning.

"Edward…Edward…I…I…"

I know the words that are on the tip of her tongue.

"Not yet," I chuckle hoarsely, not even sure why I'm making her hold them back anymore.

She arches her back so that her nipples brush my chest, sending a shiver all the way down to my balls. Suddenly, she lifts her hands to fist the pillows over us, and I feel her tightening, squeezing me. When I grab her hands and weave my fingers through hers, she cries out quietly, leaving me no choice but to come with her.

OOOOOOOOOO

Before we leave Newport Beach, I take Bella to one of my favorite spots. The fact that we didn't have time for her to really get a good look around irks me. As we cross the short, two-lane bridge, I point out the car ferries in the middle of the bay.

"When Anthony was a kid, he used to love crossing over to the island on those ferries."

"We'll take one next time," she says, resting her hand on my shoulder, squeezing in reassurance. "God, it's so all so beautiful."

"You didn't even see the beaches."

"I don't need to see the beaches to know how special this place is." I meet her eyes for two seconds, and a pleased smile lifts at the corners of my mouth.

"That Ferris wheel over there is as old as hell. Anthony used to love riding it as a kid. He'd make me take him on it over and over. _Aw, come on!_ _One more time, Dad, just one more time_!" I chuckle at the memory.

"Nessie loves Ferris wheels too."

"Then we'll have to come with her as well."

Next to me, I feel her gaze, warm and tender.

We have lunch at one of the seafood restaurants on the island. Her dark eyes take in every detail, from all the boats dotting the pier to the store fronts that look like remnants from the 1950s.

"It's like going back in time."

"I suppose in a way. But don't let the small-town feel trick you too much. Real Estate prices on this little island are almost as bad as those in New York."

She takes my hand over the table. "Well, it's lovely and homey either way."

OOOOOOOOOO

Later that evening, we pull into a modest yet well-preserved home in Phoenix.

For the past couple of hours, Bella has been behind the wheel. I took advantage of her driving and dozed in the passenger seat for a bit, but the sight of her behind the Beamer's wheel, with the sun setting behind her and the wind blowing through her hair while she smiled at the windshield…man, there's nothing like it.

The smile withers as she puts the car in park. Drawing in a deep breath, she angles herself toward me, a wary look now settling onto her face.

"I don't know how they'll act toward you."

"Bella, I've grown up," I chuckle. "While I don't want your parents to hate me, as long as it doesn't affect how you feel about me…" I shrug, trailing off. "Although, I suppose I do owe them an apology after what-"

She takes my hand and knits our fingers together, her brow furrowed, eyes locked on mine.

"I didn't bring you here for you to make more apologies."

"Then what are we here for?"

She turns toward the door, and together, we make our way up the driveway, the dry, Arizona heat like a blanket cocooning us.

When Bella rings the doorbell, the woman who opens the door is familiar and has just a vague resemblance to the woman at my side. If I recall correctly, Bella looked more like her father.

Like my own parents, Renee Swan is likely in her late sixties or early seventies. She carries her age well, however despite the short, gray hair and the wrinkles.

"Bella?"

"Hey, Mom," Bella smiles.

"Oh my God," Renee exclaims, sounding equal parts surprised and confused. After a couple of seconds of bewilderment, she pulls Bella into her arms. "Charlie, come here! Look who's here!"

Both women embrace, yet when Renee pulls away, she still looks befuddled. "Why didn't you call and let us know you were coming? Charlie!" she calls again when her husband fails to materialize.

"It was sort of last minute."

"Is Nessie here?" Renee looks behind Bella as if Nessie, who's taller than her mother, would be hiding behind her. When she finds no one there, her eyes finally move to me. "Oh, hello." One of those perplexed, frowning half-smiles cross her features as she looks me over.

"Hello, Mrs. Swan."

"No, Mom. Ness isn't here. She's back home in New York."

Obviously wondering who the hell I am, it takes Renee a few moments before she can look away from me and back to Bella.

"You left her by herself?"

"Well, first no, she's not by herself. And second…may we come in? It's hot as Hades out here."

"Goodness, of course! Charlie, darn it! Come see who's here!" She moves aside to let us in, closing the door behind her. Once inside, I draw in a deep breath, anticipating what's to come and grateful for the A/C – though I'm not so sure whether hell was outside or in here.

Unable or unwilling to hold off any longer, Renee extends a withered hand.

"Hello, I'm Renee Swan, Bella's mom. And you are…?"

"Mom," Bella chuckles shakily, "this is-"

"I'm Edward Masen, ma'am."

"Good to meet you." She shakes my hand, and although her response holds little warmth, it also displays zero recognition.

"We've met, ma'am – a long time ago."

"Now that you mention it, the name does sound familiar. Edward Masen, Edward Masen." She taps her finger on her bottom lip, eyes narrowing in concentration while Bella and I stand around in the small, dated yet clean front room and wait.

When all color drains from Renee's face, she looks to Bella "Ed…ward?"

"Yeah, Mom. Edward."

In the space of three seconds, Renee's eyes have gone from narrowed curiosity to rounded horror. Yet before she can say anything, Bella's father walks into the front room.

"What the heck is all the- Bella? Bella, baby!"

"Dad!"

More hugging ensues. Charlie Swan, retired detective, displays the same shock his wife just did. He also asks similar questions about Nessie, and when he finally looks my way, his eyes narrow with much the same suspicion as his wife's just did.

Bella clears her throat. "Dad, do you remember Edward Masen? He and I dated back in high school."

Charlie extends a hand. "No, can't say that I do. How ya doin'? Charlie Swan."

"I'm good, sir. Thank you."

And that's about as much as Charlie Swan appears to need or want to say to me. He turns back to his daughter, obviously elated to see her, and leads her into the living room. The entire time, Renee Swan's eyes remain locked on me. As Bella and Charlie walk by us, Renee takes a couple of steps toward me, her eyes hard despite her age.

"My husband's memory isn't what is used to be."

And with that, she turns and follows her husband and daughter.

OOOOOOOOOO

We spend about a half hour in the living room, catching up – or I should say, the three of them catch up, sitting together on a worn couch while I take a seat on a chair across the room and mostly listen. Bella is vague about the purpose of our visit – leaving me still clueless as to why we're here. It's obvious they're aware of Swan Bellies' expansion because Bella picks up the facts from her disagreement with the "account manager" a few days ago to having to fly to L.A. to fix the problem.

"You flew?" Again, Renee is shocked. Her eyes dart to me while she nervously rubs her neck with an open palm.

"I had no choice," Bella says.

"How did it go?" Charlie asks. The TV is on in the background, and Charlie's attention darts between the ballgame being broadcast and his daughter, appearing to listen to both with equal interest.

"It was…" Bella shrugs and looks to me with a soft smile. "Edward was waiting for me after the flight. That helped."

"Well then." Charlie clears his throat, obviously uncomfortable with the current topic. There's some commotion on the screen, and as his attention is drawn to it, Renee glares at me.

"And how's my granddaughter?" Renee asks.

"She's doing very well, Mom, helping to run Swan Bellies while I take care of things on this end."

"I can't believe you left her home alone."

"Like I said, she's not alone. She's got Alice, and…she's well taken care of," she finishes vaguely.

"How long are you staying, hon?" Charlie wonders.

"We're just passing through, Dad. We came to say hi, and then Edward and I will probably stay at a hotel tonight before continuing our drive in the morning."

"Oh. That's a shame," Charlie says, one eye on us and one on the ballgame.

A few seconds of silence ensue.

"Ed…ward," Renee says through slightly clenched teeth, "do you live in New York too?"

"No, ma'am. I live in California."

The relief in her expression is plain as day. She exhales heavily and smiles from ear to ear for the first time since we arrived.

"Edward was a tremendous help with getting Swan Bellies' distribution problem fixed. He's in distribution himself."

"Hmm."

"What's that?" Charlie asks.

"Nothing," Renee answers. "Go back to your game." An unnecessary command since his eyes and attention are now completely on the screen.

"Mom…we actually came to…I told Edward about the baby."

Renee pales, the nervous hand gesture worsening.

"I want to show him…"

"I don't think-"

"I'm not asking, Mom."

Her nostrils flare, eyes so different from her daughter's refusing to look my way.

"Mom, he was the father," Bella whispers. "He has every right." With that, she stands up, and I stand with her. When she takes my hand, she offers me a soft smile.

"Come on," she murmurs. "I have something to show you."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **The world has conspired today against my posting this chapter. I'm not even kidding. Even as I type this, it keeps conspiring.**

 **Also, to my Facebook buddies, I made a booboo this weekend when I posted the teaser for the next chapter. That was actually for the next chapter.**

 **The song Edward sang to Bella in the kitchen** _ **: I Miss You**_ **by Incubus. (Totally perfect for this chappy if you want to give it a listen). ;)**

 _ **To see you when I wake up is a gift I didn't think could be real  
To know that you feel the same as I do is a three-fold utopian dream**_

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **See you guys Wednesday.** **(Hopefully).**


	26. Ch 26 - The Woman Who Rarely Cries

**A/N: So grateful for all your wonderful thoughts. Busy days make me a shitty responder, but I truly, truly love them. (And you guys).**

 **Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes. (Though all remaining mistakes are mine).**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 26 - The Woman Who Rarely Cries**

Renee and Charlie Swan's backyard is small but well-maintained, much like the rest of what I've seen of the house. Various types of bushes and shrubbery line both the back of the house and the fence, which divides the Swan property from the neighbors. While the shrubbery doesn't appear professionally landscaped, it's obvious that someone spends his or her time gardening before everything grows too wild. Gray, stone pavers make up a patio only large enough for a basic barbecue grill, a six-seater round table, and a southwestern-style clay chimenea, which sits off to the side. The pavers taper off into a pathway over the grass and lead right to a tree a few feet away.

It's to the tree which Bella now leads me, her hand wrapped around mine. Moving closer, I see it's surrounded by a variety of flowers circling its stout trunk. We stop right under it, hidden from the sliver of evening moon by bluish, shaggy palms.

And I now know why we're here.

"It's a Blue Palm," she murmurs, "which means strong and hardy. We planted it right…afterward. It was my mom's idea - a reminder that life goes on. She named it the Anthony Tree."

My throat constricts too tightly to speak.

"She added the flowers – petunias, marigolds, sunflowers, and violets, while I was at school in Paris. She sent me pictures, and I thought they were a very pretty touch."

During the ensuing silence, we hear a bird chirping a quiet song from the tree. I find myself wondering if it's built a nest…a family...within.

"When Nessie was a little girl, we used to drive down every couple of years to visit my parents, and she would run out here as soon as we'd arrive to see how big the "Anthony Tree" had grown. Then she'd ask Grandpa to help her climb it. As she got older, she'd come sit under it and read a book or listen to music. She never knew who it was named for; I suppose she just assumed that was the tree's name – you know, like the Joshua Trees after which U2 named its album," she chuckles. "Funny, she hasn't asked about the tree since she was like…thirteen. I guess she's forgotten. And I guess…she'd old enough to be told who the tree is really named after."

"I would've wanted to be here when it was planted. I should've been here. I should've…"

"You should've had everything to do with it. You could've helped us pick out the tree. You could've picked out your own flowers."

"I would've brought him a basketball," I say, recalling the early morning dream.

"A basketball?"

A heady mixture of sorrow, fury, and guilt rolls around inside me and makes it impossible for me to respond without saying something I might regret. Bella must sense it because she doesn't push for an explanation.

"A basketball would've been a good choice. You could've brought him a basketball, and then you could've come back to the tree ten years later, like I did, and cried at how big it had grown while you'd been away. At that point, maybe you would've been able to smile and make your peace with it until another boy, who looked exactly like you would've imagined _him_ , showed up in your life. Then you would've had to make your peace with it all over again."

As I stare at the tree memorializing our son, my chest heaves with the effort to breathe. My nostrils flare with the effort not to yell into the quiet of the night.

"I know this is only your first time trying to make peace with this whole situation, and I know it's going to take time." She turns her eyes my way. "Edward, you told me yesterday that you can't forget the past so easily. And you're right, we don't forget it. But we can build on it if we want to badly enough. And now…I'll give you some time."

She squeezes my hand and brushes her lips against my arm before walking away.

For more than a few minutes, I stand there stiffly, having no idea what to do or say. He was and never was. He was a million possibilities with no end result.

"What can I say when I have no idea who you would've been? I…dreamed of you last night, but that was just a dream – what I would've wanted but by no means what would've been." I draw in a deep breath. "But you would've been a part of her and a part of me, and that would've been enough."

I drop to my knees, and suddenly, the rest pours out in tears and smiles.

"I know you know you have a sister. But you have a brother too. His name is…Anthony - like you. Now I don't know how much like you he actually is," I grin, "but I'm sure there would've been similarities. He likes cars, and swimming, and he's got a great business mind – but with a mom like yours, I'm sure you would've as well."

The next hour or so is spent in conversation with a boy I never met, yet I talk to him about everything, and by the time I'm done, I'm…relieved. And although I won't say I've made my peace, I see it on the horizon.

I lay my palm over the stout trunk. "All right, Anthony. I'll bring your brother soon so that you can meet him. Or maybe…maybe your mom and I can have our own Anthony tree in our own backyard soon, and then you can meet your brother and sister there. I love you...son." I smile shakily before getting to my feet.

OOOOOOOOOO

When I approach the house, I hear voices from the kitchen - alongside the trusty baseball game still being aired further inside. At first, I have no intention of listening, but when I hear Bella's voice, I stand stock still behind the bush to the side of the screen door. By the time I realize the topic, I'm stuck where I am.

"Good Lord, Mom, are you kidding me?" Bella chuckles, but there's absolutely no humor in her voice. "He got me pregnant? You make it sound as if I'd been standing there minding my own business when it happened - a drive-by impregnation."

"Bella!"

"Seriously, I know you're from a different period, but things have worked more or less the same way since the beginning of time. It's always taken two to tango."

"Ugh, spare me the visuals, thank you very much."

"Visuals of what," Bella snorts, "a visual of Edward and me dancing across a crowded ballroom - maybe of him dipping me while I hold a red rose between my teeth, and Julio Iglesias croons in the background? Anything you may visualize beyond that is totally on you."

"Jesus Christ, will you stop?"

My admittedly smart-mouthed girlfriend snickers. "All I'm asking is why you never told me that Edward came looking for me. Just answer that for now."

"I won't apologize, Bella," Renee maintains. "You're my daughter, and it was and is my job to protect you. Now that boy was no good for you."

A long and exasperated sigh erupts from Bella. "Look, I know it's hard to…accept when, as parents, it's time to stand back and allow our children to make their own decisions. Trust me, I know. But whether Edward was good for me or not wasn't your call. You had no right to lie by telling him I was going to Paris."

A heavy silence descends between both women. Meanwhile, from somewhere in the living room, the bottom of the ninth inning really revs up on that TV. _"And now the Diamondbacks are down by two!"_

"Damn it!" Bella's father shouts. "Darn Dodgers!"

"When the hell did I ever tell him that?"

"The day I flew to Seattle to tell him about…the pregnancy. He called me that day, and you told him I couldn't come to the phone because I was busy with paperwork for AUP."

"I don't remember telling him that," Renee muses.

"Mom..." By this point, Bella sounds about ready to wrap her hands around her mother's neck. "He wouldn't lie about something like that."

"I'm not saying I didn't say it," Renee clarifies. "I'm just saying I don't remember saying it. And even if I did, Jesus Christ, seriously? He took that to heart?"

"It was a big deal, Mom. We were kids, and the distance was already killing us, and he was…afraid of losing me if I went to Paris-"

"Then he was a goddamned, selfish coward is what he was. He was a coward then, and he's a coward now if he's trying to blame me for everything that happened."

"He's not blaming you for anything, and frankly, that's part of the problem here. He's taking all of the responsibility when we - you _and_ me - bear some of the blame as well."

" _You_ bear no blame, Bella. _You_ had a miscarriage because that boy-"

"I had a miscarriage because my cervix sucks. And yes, I hated him after that." Her voice quivers. "I blamed him because it was easier to blame him than to acknowledge the fact that it would've all happened anyway. And _I_ made the decision not to tell him, and _you_ decided, when he showed up looking for me, to continue that deception. So how is _he_ to blame when he didn't even know?"

"Would you have gone to Paris had he known?"

"Honestly, I think I would have," Bella says, "and I've told him that. But at least he wouldn't be beginning to come to terms with something that happened twenty-five years ago just now. What would've happened after that, I have no idea."

"And what about Sam? You loved him, Bella. Don't tell me now that you didn't love him just because this...man is back in the picture. I know you loved him, and you and he had a wonderful life and a beautiful daughter together."

"I will never ever regret Sam, nor will I ever downplay what I felt for him. And Edward has never asked me to do so."

"He better not," Renee snaps. " _Edward_ treated you horribly after he went off to college. Do you think I didn't notice it? Bella…sweetie…I know you're probably lonely without your husband, but don't try to replace him with-"

"I swear to God, Mom, if you finish that sentence, I will walk right out of here and never walk back in."

Renee is silent.

When Bella continues, she's clearly seething.

"One man has nothing to do with the other, but I'm not going to sit here and try to make you understand. I'm forty-two years old, not seventeen."

"That doesn't stop you from being my daughter."

"No, it doesn't. I'll always be your daughter, but in the past few weeks, I've come to realize that we as parents don't always know what we're doing. I didn't come for your blessing, Mom. I came to share Anthony's Tree with Edward, and when he comes back in, we'll be on our way."

Despite the argument, I hear the sound of a kiss being bestowed before a chair scrapes over the floor. The footfalls which follow pause somewhere in the middle of the kitchen.

"Mom, I do hope that someday you'll trust me enough to see that the boy you're comparing that man to no longer exists."

Her footsteps continue out of the kitchen and into the living room, where Charlie announces to his daughter that the Diamondbacks have lost the game.

For a few minutes, there is no sound from the kitchen. Just as I'm about to make my way in, Renee appears at the screen door. She stands there for a long while, staring out into the darkness. Then she opens the door and turns to flip a light switch, which illuminates the patio in a faint light. With a sigh, she picks up a watering can and a canvas bag full of gardening tools that are resting by the door before walking toward the tree. I watch her set down the bag and water the flowers around the perimeter, kneeling when she's done and pulling out her tools.

She doesn't acknowledge me immediately; although, she knows I'm behind her.

"Did she tell you what kind of flowers they are?"

"Yes, ma'am, she did."

"They're very delicate flowers." She carefully plucks a few leaves which have dried out. They dissolve into minuscule pieces and disappear into the soil. "They need lots of care – especially the violets, believe it or not. Violets appear hardy, and they're usually pretty self-sufficient, but when they're out of their native environment…they belong in Washington, you know, where the weather is cooler. I have to be very careful with them so that they don't wither."

"Thank you…for taking such good care of them."

She doesn't answer.

"As a father myself, I can understand why you hate me."

"I don't hate you, Edward," she chuckles. "I don't trust you, but I don't hate you."

"Either way, you're right. I was a coward back then - which is why another man earned the privilege of calling her his wife and the mother of his child."

She keeps her attention on the flowers, loosening the soil with a small rake and using the hand shovel to move it around.

"My daughter…is a very strong woman. She always has been. Even as a child, she had this innate…self-control. She kept her feelings to herself. Rarely cried. Those months after we moved here and you went off to college were hard for her. She was terrified, but she would never admit it, not even to me. Sometimes, she'd get off the phone with you, and I could see her practically vibrating with happiness. Other times, she'd get off the phone, and God, I wanted to fly over to Seattle and wring your neck."

"I would've deserved it."

"Here, help me with this."

When I kneel next to her, she hands me the rake. "We're going to loosen the soil."

"Yes, ma'am."

For the next few minutes, we're focused on our tasks. My job is to loosen and turn the soil, and then her job is to carefully water it. The moon is only a sliver tonight, and the patio light doesn't add much illumination, but she seems to know her way around the garden instinctively. I imagine she's spent a lot of time out here...under the tree...Anthony's Tree.

"I never suspected she was pregnant. She was too smart to be one of those girls; that's what I always told myself. You were a teenage crush, and she'd eventually tire of you, go to Paris, and that would be that."

She claps her hands together to get the dirt off of them, but it's also a gesture demonstrating how easily she thought I'd be out of the picture - like the dirt on her hands.

"We were more than a teenage crush, Renee."

She continues without acknowledgment. "One night, we received a phone call from Seattle General, telling us they'd admitted our seventeen-year-old daughter after she'd suffered a miscarriage on a flight from Seattle to Phoenix. The plane had to make an emergency return to Sea-Tac because she wouldn't stop screaming. My daughter, who never cried in front of _me_ , couldn't stop screaming in front of a bunch of strangers."

"Jesus," I breathe, dropping the rake and swallowing back the bile in my throat, blinking back the sting in my eyes.

"That was both the most shocking and terrifying moment of my life."

"Renee, if I could go back…if I could choose one moment in my life to rewind…"

"Well, life doesn't work that way, does it? We can't hit rewind; we can only press play. Careful, careful! Don't hit the roots! We make mistakes, all of us. And I guess there comes a point where we have to leave them behind, not just our mistakes…but those of others as well."

I nod slowly. "I suppose we do."

"Well, most young girls would've shrunk into themselves after something like that, wouldn't they? But not my Bella. Bella's inner strength shone through even more. Despite the...terror she now had of flying, she got herself on that plane to Paris, and she prospered over there, even if…even if she now had this need to…control every aspect of her life. But then she met Sam, and Sam kept her happy; he indulged her."

"Then I'm glad she had him to take care of her."

I assume we're done because Renee pats the soil around the flowers with the back of the hand shovel. Then she lifts her gaze to me, waiting for me to meet her eyes.

"He was a wonderful husband, and she loved him. But…she's always been so self-sufficient, so independent – never allowing anyone, not even her husband, to help her, to completely take care of her. And now…now she's putting her business in your hands, allowing you to escort her across the country, and trusting _your_ son with _her_ precious daughter."

I'm surprised but pleased to know that Bella told her mother about Nessie and Anthony. We don't need any more secrets.

"Renee, I love Bella more than life itself. I always have; although, I didn't know how to do it right the first time. Now I've learned, and she and my son are everything to me, and I'll spend the rest of my life making sure she never feels the need for all that control again."

She holds my gaze for a long while, and when she turns away and to the flowers, the faint moonlight cuts through Anthony's Tree's palms and illuminates her slight smile.

"He would've been my grandson."

"He was _my_ son. And I'll apologize to you now, from the bottom of my heart, for hurting your daughter, but I won't apologize for things which were beyond my control…or for being Anthony's father."

Her features are unreadable, and in that moment, I see what Bella inherited from her mother: her strength definitely, and maybe…maybe compassion as well.

"And I'll apologize for not telling you about... _Anthony_ when you showed up that day, but I won't apologize for being Bella's mother. Now help me up. It's getting late, and you two should get going so you can get a good night's rest before that long, damn drive tomorrow."

OOOOOOOOOO

Our side trip to Phoenix cost us a deviation from our planned route. So the next morning, we drive east into New Mexico where we'll head north into Colorado and then back on course. I take the first few hours of driving, but then Bella is eager to get behind the wheel again, and how can I refuse when it's such a gorgeous sight? The flat, arid highway, with its pale yellow dry bushes and muted green tumbleweed stumbling over the faded road serve as a perfect backdrop for Bella in all her glory. She's literally color in a desert-land.

"I'm gettin' my kicks on Route 66!"

My hand creeps in between her legs, and I stroke her softly. "If I recall correctly, you got your kicks real good last night."

She smirks at the windshield. "Were you always this horny?"

"With you? Oh yeah."

We drive along for a while, and although I keep my hand on her thigh, I'm only absently stroking because I'm still lost in thoughts of the past few days. So when Bella suddenly makes a sharp turn and pulls onto the shoulder, the car's tires screeching in protest, my first thought is that she's run something over.

She puts the car on park, and I quickly scan the perimeter before wrapping my hands around her face.

"What's wrong? What happened?"

"You can yell at me, you know."

"What?"

"You can yell, Edward. You can get mad at me. I was mad at you for a long time."

I drop my hands and pull away, shaking my head and resting a palm over my racing heart.

"Jesus, Bella, you almost gave me a fucking..." Then I chuckle. "I don't want to yell at you, Bella."

"Why not? Edward..." she begins sobbing quietly, the woman who rarely cries. "I fucked up. I kept it all from you, and...I closed off one of your choices. I'm not saying things would've happened differently had you known or even that we would've wanted them differently. The paths we took gave us our children. But I didn't give you a choice. _I_ chose your path for you."

For a long while, we sit there on the shoulder of the highway staring at one another. The New Mexico sun glares over us. A few cars pass back and forth, some honking. Her tears finally subside.

I draw in a deep breath and rest my arm on the open window frame. "You did fuck up. You should've told me. Everything else, I understand…and I deserve, but you should've told me."

"Then yell at me, damn it. Get mad. Get it all off your chest." She waves her hands around wildly. "I had years to do so, and I know I'm being a selfish bitch, but I don't want to wake up next to you a year or two down the line, and suddenly, you're pissed off at me. Get pissed off at me _now_."

"Bella, you're not being selfish, you're being egotistical," I grin.

"What?"

All the vehemence in her voice disappears with the confusion apparent in that one, small word. Yet her chest still heaves, and the fiery fire still dances in her eyes. She's a strong woman, indeed.

" _You_ didn't determine my future, Bella. And as much as I understand your need for control, _you_ don't control everyone's paths."

"But..." She frowns.

"Besides, I've moved past my need to yell at you."

"How can you move past that?" she asks indignantly. "How can you just skip that step? _I_ couldn't skip that step."

I pick up her hand and knit our fingers together. "You were _seventeen years old_ when all that happened. You held it against me, but you were young. I'm forty-four, Bella, and I'm past playing games of blame and recrimination. What's more...although you had Sam afterward, Sam was _not_ our Anthony's father. I'm sure he loved you immeasurably, but he wasn't the father. You…" I cradle her jaw, stroking her quivering bottom lip with my thumb, "you _are_ the mother of my son, of the son we once created and lost. And that's a bond that was never broken. Now I have you to understand me and to understand what that feels like. So I'm already ahead of where you were back then."

She throws her arms around me, burrowing her face deep into the crook of my neck, and kissing me hard. When she pulls away, the woman who rarely cries has tears in her eyes once more - but she's smiling.

"I know why you haven't let me say it."

"Do you?" I smirk, quirking a brow. "Because I'm not so clear on that myself anymore."

"It's because I never stopped either, Edward, and you were waiting for me to admit that."

Now I'm the one sucking in a sharp breath because fuck, she's right.

"And until this moment, I haven't been ready to admit that because admitting it would've felt like a betrayal to Sam. But it's not a betrayal. He and I were real, but you and I weren't finished. It's like…" she looks away, her brow furrowed in focus before another smile graces her beautiful face, and she returns her eyes to me. "It's like when you pause a movie because it's getting too hard to watch, and some parts of the movie are just hurting your heart too much. But just because it's paused doesn't mean that the movie goes away. It's there waiting for you to return to it. Maybe you move on to another movie that's also good but easier to watch, and for a while, you push that first movie out of your head. Yet when the second movie finishes, you realize that the other movie…the first one has been on pause all this time, and you've never really forgotten it. You realize that now, you're ready to go back to that first one, to brave those hard parts because that first movie was _just so damn good_ , and you can't bear to not see it through to the end. And when you press play on it...it becomes everything."

I crush her against me then, kissing her eyes, her cheeks, and her nose until I find her sweet, smart, and delicious mouth and kiss the hell out of it. When she's out of breath, I pull away and grin.

"So what you're saying is I'm a good movie."

Her eyes sparkle. "Pay attention: you're a _damn good_ movie."

I laugh at her, shaking my head. "Get up, and let me drive for a bit. I'm suddenly full of energy, and I've got to release it behind the wheel - at least until we find another hotel."

She chuckles and opens her door, walking toward the passenger side. We meet in front of the hood, and she presses herself against my chest, lifting herself up on her toes to meet my eyes.

"In case that weird analogy wasn't clear enough, I love you, Edward."

The grin that spreads across my face is as wide as can be.

"And now we'll always remember that I pulled over on a nondescript, nothing section of New Mexico's old Route 66 to tell you that."

"A non-moment," I laugh.

"Exactly."

Leaning in, I press my lips softly to hers. "Guess what?" I murmur against her mouth.

"What?" she breathes dreamily.

"It sure as hell didn't feel like a non-moment to me."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

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 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **See you guys on Friday. :)**


	27. Ch 27 - The Honeymoon's Over, Baby Cakes

**A/N: Thank you so much for all your wonderful thoughts on the last chapter. It was an emotional chapter for me to write. I'm glad you guys enjoyed it. :)**

 **Betad by the wonderful Michelle Renker Rhodes (though all remaining mistakes are mine).**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

 **Ch. 27 – The Honeymoon's Over, Baby Cakes**

 **Bella**

A few days later, we round the corner of Second and Thirtieth, my sweet Fairway Supermarket lit up for the evening with its weekly specials plastered against the windows. The always bustling AMC Theatre is full of anxious moviegoers queuing up for some summer blockbuster or another. New York's typical sounds erupt from all around us: the blare of a police siren nearby, a hip-hop song playing somewhere in the vicinity, and eager voices talking, laughing, arguing, etc. as they take to the busy city sidewalks.

A couple of blocks later, Edward pulls up in front of my townhouse and puts the car in park. Then we both look up at the house, which is illuminated from the inside by the Tiffany lamp next to the second-floor windows. I hate that lamp, but it was a wedding present from Sam's mom. For a few minutes, we sit there and keep right on staring at the house as if we both expect it to suddenly grow wings or a mouth or something.

Finally, Edward draws in a deep breath and tears his eyes away from the house, training them on me as he exhales a warm breath over my skin. The smile that turns up the corners of his mouth is so faint he may as well not even have bothered.

"Well, we're here."

"Yes, we are," I reply with the same phony cheer.

"Are you ready?"

Am I ready to go back to the daily grind, the hustle and bustle, and the give and take of New York life?

Now, I'm not gonna start lying here and say that I don't enjoy the shit out of it. I've been a New Yorker for almost two decades now, and I've thrived on the hard work, on the immersion into a hectic schedule that infuses you with its own brand of adrenaline, and on having an occupation where there's always something else that needs to get done.

Yet now…now I've tasted the fruit from the forbidden tree. Or is it forbidden?

"The past week feels almost like a forbidden dream," I say, giving voice to my thoughts.

He grins. "A good forbidden dream or a bad one?"

"A good one – if that makes any sense."

"It makes plenty of sense," he snorts. Then he slides his hand around the nape of my neck and pulls me to him, brushing his lips back and forth softly over mine for a while before actually parting my lips and sliding his tongue inside. They dart against one another with almost ghostlike strokes.

With another sigh, he pulls away. "Let's go in and face the music."

OOOOOOOOOO

When I unlock the front door, we find Ness, Anthony, and Alice all sitting around the living room. Ness and Anthony are on one side of the sectional with Alice on the other. The TV is on over the fireplace mantle, and for the first few seconds after we walk in, all three sets of eyes remain glued to the screen as if they're watching something absolutely riveting. Yet knowing none of them are big TV addicts to begin with, I kind of think that what they were really watching was a show from the window.

Ness is the first to look our way, grinning. "Oh hey, Mom, Edward, you guys are back!"

Anthony looks over, opening his eyes just a little too widely in surprise. "Oh, look at that! They are!"

I drop the keys on the side table while smirking knowingly at both of them. "Yes, we are. What a shock."

"Especially since we called from New Jersey to let you guys know we'd be here in twenty minutes," Edward adds.

Alice snickers and frowns at the kids, shaking her head as she gets to her feet. "Tsk, tsk, you guys are such bad actors. Have I taught you both nothing this past week?" She walks over to me with a wide smile, wrapping her arms around my neck. "Welcome home, babe."

"Hey, Al." When I pull away from her, we have about three seconds to exchange _"Bella, are you okay? Alice, I'm so friggin' great"_ looks before the children descend. Nessie hugs me tightly – tighter than I'd honestly expected, which is just…wonderful.

"Mommy," she murmurs.

"Hey, sweetie. Everything okay while I was gone?"

"Everything was fine, Mom. Anthony and I took care of things." She pauses for a second. "I missed you."

"Oh, baby." I kiss her soft cheek before pulling back. "I missed you too." I did. I may have had a hell of a week, but I did miss her.

Next to me, Alice and Edward are introducing themselves, and in my periphery, Anthony waits his turn like the gentleman he is - the gentleman he's been brought up to be. When Nessie moves aside, he approaches me with a somewhat sheepish smile.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Laurent."

We hold one another's gaze. His green eyes are exactly like his father's down to the brown and blue shades that change with his mood:- darker when he's nervous, lighter when he's happy. Having seen his mom this week, however, I now see that his hair is much more like hers than Edward's. He's also about an inch taller than his father. Yet as he looks at me, a crooked grin lifts up at the corner of his mouth - all Edward.

More than a few things have changed in the week I've been away. Truths have been told, tears have been shed, and realities have been accepted. And I think…in one way or another...everyone in this room feels the difference.

"Anthony…you can just call me…" I swallow because despite how much I would like it, it wouldn't be right, "Bella."

OOOOOOOOOO

"It was good to finally meet you, Edward."

"Good to finally meet you too, Alice."

I'm not-so-secretly pleased by how well the first meeting between Edward and Alice went. They were cordial if not a little stiff around one another, but I suppose that's to be expected. He's my old and new boyfriend, and she's my husband's sister. Although, even if they'd hated each other on sight, it wouldn't have changed anything.

At this point, I'm just glad Alice didn't go all Jasper on him. And I'm even happier at the fact that Edward has finally met one of my peeps who doesn't seem to think she's entitled to an apology from him. Oh, I know my girl, Al; she'll have more to say on the subject to me tomorrow during our Yoga class. But she won't be busting into Edward's hotel room tonight to give him a piece of her mind. – at least, I hope she won't.

At least, I hope she won't.

"You and I _will_ talk tomorrow," she confirms when I walk her to the door - as if I didn't know that was coming.

"We will," I chuckle. "I promise."

Once she's gone, I go take a seat in between Edward and Anthony. I get the feeling the kids totally know about Edward and me (they named this morning's creation ' _The Honeymoon's Over, Baby Cakes'_ , after all. Couple of smart-asses), but he and I seem to have an unspoken agreement about keeping things PG in front of them. We keep our hands to ourselves and about six inches of space between us at all times.

"So…" Anthony says.

"So…" Nessie echoes.

"So…"

"Oh, come on! Seriously? What are we, five here?"

I chuckle at my daughter's impatience. "Exactly what do you want to know, Ness?"

She gestures between Edward and me, brow raised high. In response, Edward carefully yet surely reaches out and takes my hand, scooting in few inches, and settles our weaved appendages on his thigh.

Nessie's eyes move back and forth between us and our hands.

"I suppose that answers that without a doubt. I mean, we knew something had _started_ before you left, but I guess we were just wondering how serious…"

"Your mom and I are very serious," Edward clarifies.

"Wow Okay."

"But I won't make you uncomfortable in your own home, Nessie."

"Oh, it's not that," she smiles softly. "I just…" When her chest expands on a deep breath, Anthony reaches over and takes her hand in much the same manner his dad just took mine. It's a strange family we're on the verge of building here.

"It will take some getting used to, that's all," she admits. "But you don't have to tip-toe around me, Edward."

"Thank you," he says. Then he turns to his son. "And you, Anthony? Do you have anything you want to say?"

Anthony chuckles and leans forward, giving Nessie's hand a kiss first. "Not really, just that…" – his eyes trail to our hands – "I'm fine with the entire thing. It's no secret why Nessie needs a little time to get used to it, but...Dad, as long as you're happy - as long as both you and Mrs.- I mean, Bella, are happy..."

He's got on this grin that...makes me imagine what his brother's grin would've looked like, equal parts joy and wickedness...yet sweet too.

And for the first time, comparing them...it doesn't hurt.

It makes me smile.

And I also realize how new this must be to Anthony as well as to Nessie – seeing his dad with someone this way. Whereas Ness has to get used to seeing me in love with someone other than her dad, Anthony has to get used to seeing his dad...in love.

Beside me, so close now that our thighs touch, Edward clears his throat. "There are things Bella and I would like to speak to the both of you about." He looks at me, his expression soft and tender while he confirms that we're still on the same page - which of course, we are. "But not tonight. There's too much going on right now, and we'd like to wait until everything has calmed down a bit."

"Okay," both kids respond about a second apart, both looking more than a bit curious.

Meanwhile, a huge yawn erupts from me, and Edward squeezes my hand.

"I'd better go," Edward he murmurs. "You're tired."

"I am tired, but are you sure you have to go?"

"Yeah. I'll stick around during the day tomorrow, but then I'll start heading back in the evening."

"I hate that you drove all the way-"

"Stop," he hisses, glaring at me.

"But you're going to be so exhausted."

"I'll be just f-" His eyes dart away from me for a moment, and when I follow his gaze, we both find our children just sitting there, watching us as if we're some sort of...well, TV show.

Anthony jumps to his feet. "Oh. You know what? I'm just going to head to my room. It's been a long day and -Bella, you and I have that meeting early tomorrow, right? And I guess I should -Ness, maybe…" he scratches his nose, "upstairs… _privacy_ ," he says under his breath, jerking a finger toward the staircase.

"Oh! Oh, yeah! It's been a long day!" As soon as she jumps to her own feet, Edward stands as well. "No, no. You don't have to get up! I'm just going to head…yeah…well, okay, good night, guys! Mom, see you in the morning. Edward, if I don't see you before you leave, have a good trip back, and…thanks for bringing Mom home."

"No problem, Nessie. Have a good night."

Anthony moves in and gives his dad a hug, and then they both quickly scurry upstairs. Eyes still on them, Edward resumes his seat next to me and chuckles.

"Well, they're as subtle as a heart attack, aren't they?"

"Seriously. However...they did just give us _privacy..._ " I pull him by his collar, and he leans in and captures my mouth in a hungry kiss, much more intense than the last one in the car. I'm actually glad the kids aren't witnesses to it because he slides one hand around my nape while pushing me against the sofa. Then the other hand molds around my breast as he presses himself against me, holding me captive while his tongue eagerly strokes mine, and I fist his hair in both hands. He moans quietly into my mouth, and I whimper just as lowly, kind of sad we can't be as loud as we've been over the past week. When I'm out of breath, he trails his mouth down to my jaw and further to my neck, licking and biting. I pull away, breathing hard as I rest my hands on his heaving chest.

My breasts heave against him, nipples tingling at the contact after a week of his touch. I pull away, breathing hard as I rest my hands on his heaving chest.

"Edward..."

"What?" he breathes in my ear.

"Edward…we're both adults. You don't have to leave tonight."

He chuckles softly before pulling away, placing a kiss on my nose before finding my eyes. "Yes. I do. It has nothing to do with being adults. It's respect, and I will _never_ take you under this roof."

I shut my eyes and try to regulate my breathing. "I know," I breathe, meeting his eyes again. "I didn't mean it that way, but there's a guest room – which I'm sure has gone largely unused this past week," I smirk.

Edward throws back his head and laughs out loud.

"You're laughing because you know I'm right."

"You probably are," he acknowledges, grinning crookedly.

"Ugh." I roll my eyes. "Let's change the subject before I turn into my mother. My point is, you can stay under this roof without disrespecting-"

"Shh." He taps his finger to my lips. "I've already reserved a room at the Marriott.

I search his eyes. "How am I supposed to sleep without you tonight?"

He traces the outline of my mouth. "Not gonna lie, I kinda love the fact that you're going to miss me. I hope you miss me a hell of a lot. I hope you're miserable tonight without me."

"Jerk," I chuckle quietly, smacking his hard chest.

"What is it that they say about absence and hearts?" he teases.

"It makes the heart grow fonder." I stroke his thigh and cup him over his shorts. "But you know what makes it grow even fonder?"

He releases a breath through narrowed lips before quirking a brow. "What?"

"Some really good lovin'" He closes his eyes and groans, finding my mouth again while I play with him over his pants, tracing the outline of his growing erection. It all only lasts a few seconds, though, because Edward pulls away my hand and weaves together our fingers, resting them on his thigh once more.

Neither of us will really take it that far, not here.

His ensuing expression is suddenly much deeper and much more sober. "Bella…I know you have a life here in New York, but I'd really like for you to consider the possibility of beginning again somewhere else…" he squeezes my hand, "you and I together. You're living in his house, full of his memories, and while I respect that, I want us to start our own life with our own memories." He snorts and brushes his mouth over my temple. "If it wasn't for how crazy I know this whole start-up has you, I'd be down on one knee right now."

Despite knowing how fast we're moving, my heart thrills at those words. "Telling me that is more or less getting down on one knee," I smile.

"I know."

"Some might say we're moving too fast." I hold his gaze.

"Who do we have to answer to other than ourselves, Bella? Besides, it's not as if we've only just met."

By this point, I'm almost vibrating in my seat.

"Relax," he breathes, his hands moving to my shoulders. "I'm not asking you to decide right this very second, but Bella, I was ready to begin again with you the day I saw you in that restaurant."

"And all the things that have happened, that you've learned between then and now…? They haven't given you a change of heart?"

"You're asking things you know the answers to," he says in a no-nonsense tone; though, the tenderness in his eyes belies it. "Just think about it." He sweeps a few strands of hair behind my ear, stroking it with his thumb. "Like I said, I'm not going to push for anything right now."

"Not right now," I chuckle shakily, "but maybe in a week or two."

"I won't deny that," he laughs, "or apologize for it. I know what I want, and I'm pretty sure I know what you want."

I kiss him quick and hard. "I _don't_ want any more apologies from you. But…" I swallow, resting my forehead against his, "what if I were to say I couldn't leave this city?"

There is no hesitation when he responds. "Then we'd explore other options, Bella. The goal here is to get you and me together under one roof, permanently, and I'm determined to figure out a way to do that. I love you, Bella, and you love me, but I feel uncomfortable even talking about this in this house."

"Edward-"

"My point is, baby," he smiles, "I want us to have our own place where it's _all_ you and me. What city that happens in isn't my priority."

OOOOOOOOOO

After a week of being together almost constantly, it's difficult to let go, but after some more kissing and quiet touching...we do.

I'm lost in thought as I climb the winding staircase. When I reach the small kitchen, lit only by the lamp over the stove, Nessie is sitting on one of the stools in her pajama shorts and tank top, waiting for me.

"I made us hot chocolate," she announces, "like we used to have when I was younger."

When her dad was alive.

"Thanks, sweetie." Taking a seat next to her, we quietly drink from our respective mugs.

"He didn't stay?"

"No. He wouldn't do that. This is your dad's house, Sam's family's house, and he respects that."

She nods silently. "He's a good guy."

"He is."

"Even if he hurt you before?"

I rest a hand on her lap. "I hurt him too, Nessie. We were young, and we both made mistakes."

Another nod. "I just…it seems it was an involved trip."

I set down my mug. "It was…and we _will_ speak about it soon - the four of us because it involves us all."

She studies me thoughtfully. "All right, Mom. I'll clean up," she offers with a soft smile. "I know you're probably tired."

"It was a long week. But we managed to get a lot done. Plans for the L.A. start-up are now moving along really quickly, and with you and Anthony both working on it from here, we're set for September first."

"Are you sure you don't need me in that meeting tomorrow?"

"No, baby. Anthony will be there as part of the distribution team. I'd much rather have you here making sure everything goes well with tomorrow's Swan Bellies."

"No problem. He really does love working with you, Mom."

I nod silently. "All right. I better get to bed. Gotta get up early and make the donuts!"

She pulls a hand through my hair. "Why don't you sleep in a little bit, let Anthony and I take care of the donuts?"

I take her hand in mine. "How about the three of us do it together?"

She smiles. "That's even better. I guess both of us...you and I...have to let go a bit."

OOOOOOOOOO

The following morning, after we're done with the day's creation, Anthony and I get ready for our early meeting with the folks at _Planet Who_. With Anthony needing to be at his internship by nine, the meeting has been scheduled for seven-thirty in the morning, which is only four-thirty L.A. time, and with the week's traveling (and all the sex in between), I'm exhausted.

But hey, I'm not complaining.

A slow smile creeps across my face as I think about this last part while in the cab ride on the way Planet Who's Brooklyn office.

"What?" Anthony, as I've apparently forgotten, is sitting next to me in the cab, and now watching me curiously.

My face burns. "What what?"

"What were you just smiling about?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

He frowns, but the grin is still in place. " _O_ -kay. Because it was just such a great smile."

"It was nothing." I turn my gaze to the window.

"If you say so, but it was just one of those smiles people get when they're thinking of the most amazing things-"

With a huff, I turn my eyes back to him. "All right, Anthony Robert Masen, stop worrying about my smiles, and let's prep here."

He chuckles impishly. "Yes, Bella." Darn mind-reading _Spawn_.

"Now when we get there, you won't allow Aro or anyone else in that meeting to intimidate you. _You_ orchestrated the deal which has us where we are now; therefore, you have just as much right, if not more than anyone else, to be here."

"No, ma'am. I certainly won't allow them to intimidate me." He grins his father's crooked grin, though even cockier than his, and pulls on the hem of his suit jacket to make sure it doesn't bunch up anywhere. Little Anthony Masen looks almost as good as his dad in a suit.

"And remember, don't give them any more information than they need. There are certain things that only you and I, as the ones actually representing this business, need to know."

"Bella," he says softly, "you consider me an actual part of this business?"

"Are you kidding me here?"

"No, I'm not."

I sigh and roll my eyes. "What did I just say, Anthony? We'd still be scrambling to find a distributor for our expansion if it wasn't for you."

All cockiness leaves those green eyes, and suddenly, they crinkle warmly. "Thank you."

I swallow past the dryness in my throat. "All right, so you'll remember those two things, right?"

"Yes, ma'am," he grins, confident smirk once again in place. "I am totally ready here, Bella."

I turn my eyes to the window and smile at the New York City morning. "I know you are."

OOOOOOOOOO

We're greeted at _Planet Who_ by Charlotte, who's apparently immensely impressed by my little sidekick slash partner. She's a talkative thing despite the early hour and the fact that she's old enough to be his mom. And Anthony, being the social creature that he is, indulges her while we wait for Aro and the rest of the team to meet us.

Then I catch sight of Jay striding toward us. He stops a safe distance from me, in case my _not_ having smacked him last time was a delayed reaction on my part.

"Bella, how are you?"

"Jacob," I respond coolly.

Meanwhile, Mr. and Ms. Chatterbox next to me have suddenly run out of words.

Jay looks over to Anthony with a bored expression. "Hey, Kid."

For a few seconds, Anthony just stares at him, then he chuckles and drops his head, shaking it slowly from side to side, digging his hands deep into his pockets.

Jesus, the boy not only looks like his father, he acts like him too.

With an uninterested shrug at the fact that his greeting wasn't returned, Jay turns back to me. "Bella, can we talk in private for a minute before the meeting begins?"

There are a couple of reasons why I agree, and they'll soon become apparent. When I nod my agreement, my reasons are obviously _not_ apparent to either Charlotte or Anthony, the first who gasps, and the second who audibly growls under his breath. Meanwhile, Jay begins walking backward toward his office and stops to wait for me by the Foozball table.

"Anthony, wait for me here."

"Bella…" When I take a step, he places a hand on my shoulder, not actually holding me back because he knows me better than that by now, but I can feel the weight of his restraint. His brows are furrowed, nostrils flaring – just like his father.

"He doesn't deserve a private word with you."

"No, he probably doesn't," I agree, squeezing his arm in reassurance, "but if I've learned anything in the past few weeks, it's that the world isn't always about what's deserved, whether it be good or bad."

I make to turn around again.

"If he gets fresh with you-"

"Then I'll take care of it." I take a couple of steps, but then I turn to Anthony once more.

"Anthony, if you see me getting worked up, you're not going to go all Western-Cowboy-Movie on me and try to rescue the damsel in distress, are you?"

"Bella..."

"Anthony..."

Anthony looks like he's really struggling with that answer. "Bella…after your disagreement with Jacob, Ness called Charlotte to ask her if she knew what happened, and Charlotte told Ness the whole mess – including exactly what Jacob said." Here, he shoots Jay a threatening scowl full of pure scorn and disgust. "If my dad knew what he said..." he hisses, eyes still on Jay.

"Which is why we aren't going to tell your dad. Again, this is not a Western."

"Fine," he relents through clenched teeth, "but at least let me give him a good-"

"Rein in them ponies, Little Vaquero, Jacob Black is _not_ going to heft me over his shoulder and try to run off with me on his speedy stallion. Good Lord, look at him! He's Jacob! I'll be fine, and I'll be right back." I chuckle at Anthony's deadly expression before walking toward Jacob. Turning quickly one last time, I hiss firmly, "You better stay there!"

He huffs furiously, pressing his lips together, his Masen jaw a perfect, aggravated square. "Yes, ma'am." His mouth barely moves around the words.

Jacob straightens his tie as I approach him. "Thank you, Bella. I just-"

"Because you were my husband's friend-"

"And I've been _your_ friend as well, Bella."

"That disgusting statement you made in front of Charlotte last week were not the words of a friend, Jay. I would've been justified in not only slapping you silly but slapping you and this place with a sexual harassment suit."

"And I thank you for not doing either," he whispers vehemently. "Bella, it was a grave error in judgment, both businesswise and personally. It definitely came out wrong, but what I said was only meant to illustrate the fact that I worry-"

I lift a hand between us, indicating he needs to stop right there. "Jacob, I'm not going to dignify that statement with any further discussion, one way or the other, and I strongly suggest you drop it as well."

"Fine. I probably should've discussed it with you before releasing LAC from negotiations."

I roll my eyes.

He moves in closer. "But I still maintain that it was a business strategy, and we could've done better. Now I know you've already signed a contract with them, but perhaps, once I see a copy of the document-"

"Jacob, as I began saying, because you were my husband's friend, and because we've been friends for a long time, I'll give you the courtesy you failed to give me and inform you of a decision I've made. You've obviously not been made aware that I've asked Aro to take you off of the account permanently. You won't be attending today's meeting, and you won't see any more documents related to Swan Bellies."

His face pales. "Come on, Bella. You're taking this a bit too far, don't you think?"

"No, I don't. I think I've handled this entire situation quite reasonably. Besides the aforementioned lawsuit, I could've dropped this entire agency, not just you, and Aro knows that. Right now, I have my pick of media agencies just dying to take on Swan Bellies' account, and _you_ know that very well. However, I've been extremely pleased this week with Gianna and Garrett's level of response and dedication. Along with Anthony as consultant-"

"Consultant?" he hisses.

"Yes, consultant. The four of us have worked wonderfully together, and I can honestly say I'm happy with the way the team is going."

"This is ridiculous," he seethes.

"Jacob, I think our…friendship became a detriment to this account. You've had your hands full with large accounts, so you treated this one with enthusiasm when it suited you and ignored it when it didn't - as if it was a side hobby."

"Give me a break, Bella. You started this business on the side, in your kitchen, because you were lonely. _I_ was there, and I saw it," he says, digging a finger into his chest.

I shut my eyes and press my lips together, counting to three before reopening them. When I do, I look at Anthony.

He's already more than halfway to us. I shake my head vigorously, and after two more steps, just a few feet away, he comes to a reluctant, halting stop. Then turning in a tight circle, he fists his reddish-blonde hair.

I put up a finger, indicating he needs to give me a moment.

"Jacob, this is Gianna and Garrett's first large account, and they're genuinely eager to work on it. Both they and Anthony have young, fresh ideas; fresh outlooks which you now lack. They're ambitious, innovative and passionate, and they're aware of avenues you haven't even considered. Your ideas are old, Jacob, and with the new launch in L.A. in a little over a month, _Anthony_ and the rest of the team are exactly what Swan Bellies needs."

His chest heaves. He looks over at Anthony before returning his dark gaze to me.

"So that's it. You've got new blood, and I'm out."

"It's business."

He snorts. "So the kid and his father are totally running the show now?"

I can't help laughing. "No, not completely," I say, just to piss him off even more because he's just being a fucker at this point. "And by the way, in case you're _still_ having trouble remembering, his name is _Anthony_ , not The Kid."

"Bella, I really and truly hope you don't regret this," he says, but he totally looks like he hopes I fall flat on my face and end up homeless, eating dead rats from rusty garbage bins.

"Jay, you were friends with Sam for a long time, and for that reason alone, I wish you well too."

And with that, I leave him standing there.

Anthony's expression is full of murderous plans. Chuckling, I cup his sweet, smooth young cheek while he continues to glare daggers at Jay.

"Never lose your cool in the office, Kiddo, or else you'll end up like _that_ instead of like…your dad," I smile. "Now come on, Mr. Masen, let's get to our meeting."

With a deep breath, he drops his eyes to me, and then he exhales and gives me a grin that floods me with warmth.

"Yes, ma'am."

He offers me his arm, and I take it. And as we walk to the meeting, I know that no matter how the Swan Bellies' expansion goes, even if it flops right onto its proverbial belly, I still won't regret a thing.

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Almost done. :)**

 ***Edited after a "Guest" reviewer pointed out a glaring mistake: "dignify" previously said "deem," which made no sense. Thank you "Guest" reviewer.**

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **Have a great weekend, guys!**


	28. Ch 28 - Miss My Banana Nut Muffin

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.**

 **Betad by the wonderful Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 28 – Miss My Banana Nut Muffin**

 **Bella**

"He wants me to move over there – to California."

" _WHAT?"_

Alice pretend-chokes on a piece of arugula.

After my week-long absence from New York City, Alice and I are back to our weekly routines: taking care of our respective jobs in the mornings and meeting for exercise classes in midtown during the afternoons, followed by a quick lunch in Bloomies. In the past week, I've filled her in on everything, from the horror of my flight, to Edward coming to "my rescue" at the airport, followed by our long overdue talk, his taking me to his gorgeous, kick-ass house, pool, and kitchen (the kitchen alone took up an entire yoga class and lunch session), and ending with our drive back.

And now I've told her of what Edward and I discussed in those last couple of days before he drove back to the sunny land of Newport Beach, California.

While she continues spluttering over her dish and making a big production of having a tiny leaf stuck in her esophagus, I roll my eyes and hand over her glass of water.

"Are you ready to discuss this, or are you going to keep pretending that you're dying?"

She chuckles heartily – which she wouldn't be able to do if she really needed the Heimlich. As she drinks her water, her eyes hold mine over the rim of the glass.

With a loud and purposeful thud, she finally sets down her water. "You know what? Never mind what I've been saying all week about Edward seeming like a great guy or about how happy I am that you're in love again. I've changed my mind. Edward is actually an asshole. Drop him. Forget him. Find a nice, local guy and cut the Cali Boy loose." Her eyes widen on another wonderful thought. "Actually, maybe you jumped the gun here, and Jacob isn't that bad after all. Why don't you give good ole Jakey Boy another chance?"

By this point, I'm laughing hysterically and in danger of choking on my own leafy greens. All the while, I ignore my fellow restaurant patrons, who are staring at both Alice and me as if we belong at Chucky Cheese instead of Le Train Bleu.

"Oh, _now_ Jay sounds like a good option for me, huh?"

"So he's selfish, egotistical, wants to bed his dead buddy's wife, and he allows his personal feelings to screw with his professionalism. No one's perfect."

"Why don't _you_ date him, then?"

"I would rather stick to my vibrator until either it or I die."

We both snicker at that one.

With a deep breath, Alice sobers and gives me her sad, puppy dog eyes. "Look, I know I'm being totally selfish here, but what about me…and Swan Bellies! What are you going to do about Swan Bellies?"

"Ally…" I smile softly, "I'm taking it all into consideration, weighing the pros and cons."

"And which is winning?"

I hold her gaze steadily.

There are so many reasons for me to stay, one of which is her. I can't remember a time before Alice was my best friend. Some aspects of those days seem so long ago, yet others feel as if they were just yesterday.

She takes my hand in hers, our salads laying all but forgotten before us.

"Seriously, Bella. As much as it… _kills_ me to say this," she chuckles, "I can see the two biggest pros to your moving there. You'll be closer to Nessie."

"She does love California," I agree.

"And she loves Anthony. I spent quite a bit of time with those two last week. I mean…if they're not committed, I don't know who is. Young or not, he's it for her, Bella. And yes, she does love California. I can see her time here in New York coming to an end."

"And the other pro for California?"

"Edward." She shrugs as if that one was a given – which it is.

"I'd miss you so damn much, but here, you're my brother's widow. Over there, you'd be Bella Swan again, or _Bella-Whoever-The-Hell-She-Wants-To-Be_."

"That's basically what Edward says."

"He's right – the fucker." She sneers begrudgingly, making us both laugh. "I guess…I guess it'll just take some getting used to."

I feel the tears threatening, so of course, I kill the moment before that can happen. "Don't start moving me to the west coast just yet. I haven't made any sort of decision one way or the other. I've never even been to the beaches! What if the beaches suck?"

"Then definitely don't go," she says quickly. Her face is a mask of total seriousness. "Fuck Edward and his great-ass house and his great fucking kitchen and his skinny-dip-and-fuck-me-right-here pool. The beaches." She methodically chews on a piece of celery and then points at me with it. "Those right there will either make or break this deal."

I'm almost embarrassed by how hard she's making me laugh. How can I part with having this on a daily basis?

" _If_ I go," I reach out and steal one of her celery sticks; like her, using it as a pointer, "you've got to stop being such a damn workaholic and come visit me often."

"Yeah, yeah." She rolls her eyes.

"Maybe you'll meet someone over there too. Hey," - a bright idea hits me - "maybe Edward's friend, Jasper-"

Now she uses the celery stick as a flying object – heading straight for my face. "The Asshole? Seriously? Not only are you thinking of leaving me, but you're trying to set me up with The Asshole? Hey, I may not be crazy about my vibrator, but I'm not about to replace it with human dildos like Jay and The Asshole. Besides, going by how you've described his laid-back, chauvinistic, meddling ass, he and I would totally kill each other."

"Yeah. Yeah, you probably would. Oh well," I say with a shrug.

OOOOOOOOOO

A few days later, Edward texts me while the staff and I (and Anthony) are working on that morning's creation: _Miss My Passion-Fruit and Banana Nut Muffins._

Anthony stared at me blankly after he asked and I gave him the name of the day's creations. Then he turned away – his back to me, shoulders shaking.

That darn boy better not even shoot a glance my way again until we're done with these this morning. That's all I'm saying.

Anyway, while I'm mashing bananas, I hear my phone vibrate. Setting down my implements, I wipe my hands on my apron and pick up the cell.

 **Bella, I spoke to Stephen of LAC earlier today, and what is this he mentioned about you coming to L.A. for the Swan Bellies launch?**

Exhaling, I blow away a strand of hair that's escaped my netting while I text Edward back.

 **I was going to call you in a bit to tell you.**

Setting the phone down, I resume my work. Of course, it vibrates again a few seconds later.

 **I'm confused. Are you planning on driving? When were you planning on leaving? The launch is in one week.**

He's not going to let this go until later, and I'm busy right now.

 **I'm aware of the time frame, Mr. Masen. I was planning on flying over a couple of days before the launch.**

And there we go. Damn LAC CEO opened the can, and now I have to spill the beans a couple of days before I would've preferred to avoid just this conversation as long as possible. This time, when I set down the phone, it takes less than half a minute before it bounces over the counter in one long vibration – a phone call rather than a text.

With a deep breath, I look over at Anthony, who's humming while he works.

"Anthony, can you keep an eye on things while I get that?"

"Sure, Bella." He smiles knowingly, perfectly aware of who's calling at this time of day. So while he takes over, I pick up the phone and walk away for some privacy.

"Bella, what's going on? What do you mean you're flying? You _hate_ flying."

"Hello to you too, Edward. What, you miss me? I miss you too! You're happy you're going to see me in a few days? Oh my God, guess what? I'm happy about that too!"

"Stop being a smart-ass. What. Is going. On?"

I huff into the phone. "I have to be there for the launch."

"No, you don't," he responds instantly. "Anthony and Nessie will be back in L.A. by then. You've already agreed on having them oversee it. I'm sure they can handle it."

"I'm sure they can handle it too, Edward. It's not that. I _want_ to be there. As much as I trust them, Swan Bellies is _my_ brainchild."

"Jesus Christ…"

"Hey, if you're too busy to see me, you don't have to. I'll only be there for a few days."

"Now you're just being purposely obtuse and argumentative."

"Ouch. I was just kidding. I know you want to see me."

"I _do_ want to see you, Bella," he says, his tone much softer now. "I want to see you more than anything. But, baby…we both know how hard flying is for you. Look, I'll fly down tomorrow, and we can drive back together."

"Edward, stop!" When I look up, Anthony and a couple of others are looking at me. I scowl their way, and they all get their asses back to work. "What are you going to do now, chauffeur me back and forth across coasts every time I need to be in one place or the other?"

"If I have the time-"

"You _don't_ have the time. I know you're your own boss, but you've taken enough time off for me this summer. Edward, I can do this."

I hear his agitated breaths over the phone line, and although I'm not waiting for his permission, I don't want to argue about this with him, especially when we're separated by about ten states.

"I'll fly up in a couple of days." There's no room for argument in his tone, but when has that stopped me?

"Edward, come on."

"Listen to me. First, I am _not_ letting you fly by yourself. This time, you and I are going to handle this together. Second…Bella, I was already planning a trip up there. You may be fine with the distance between us, but how long do you think I planned to go without seeing you?"

"I'm _not_ fine with the distance between us, and you know that. Of course, I want you with me, but not as my crutch."

"Jesus Christ. Seriously, Bella? Allowing me to be there for you doesn't make me your crutch. It makes me your friend, your lover, and the only man who understands what that flight will be like for you. Can you please cede some control long enough to see that?"

My first instinct is to respond with a sharp retort along the lines of _never_ ceding an ounce of control. But perhaps...just maybe...he's right. Maybe it's time to allow someone...to allow him...to look out for me a bit.

Perhaps I just needed to hear him say it.

"Bella, can you see that?"

"Yes, Edward," I say softly. "Yes, I see it."

OOOOOOOOOO

A few days later, Edward arrives in the middle of the day while Anthony is wrapping up the last day of his very successful internship. He's added to his already impressive understanding of the business world and made a few important east coast contacts. Nessie is out running last minute errands, saying goodbye to friends, and getting things ready because tomorrow, the four of us are flying to L.A. - Ness and Anthony to get ready for classes, which will begin in a little over a week, me to be there for my Swan Bellies' West Coast launch, and Edward…to be my supportive other half. In the evening, the four of us will get together for one last dinner before the kids return to UCLA.

But for now…

When Edward's cab pulls up in front of the house, I'm at the door waiting. I watch him slide his credit card and pay for the ride before he hefts his bag over his shoulder, opens the cab door, and walks out, eyes finding mine immediately. The constant sunshine of his state gives his toned arms and legs a year-round, warm glow. It highlights the natural copper in his dark, wavy hair, and it makes his bright green eyes stand out all the more.

As he takes the stoop steps two at a time, he flashes me a crooked grin. I don't even get an opportunity to respond with a grin of my own before he scoops me into his arms and crashes his mouth to mine, tongue warm and ready. It's been almost three weeks since we kissed and since we've seen one another...since we made love. Honestly, at this point, I'm not sure how either one of us will bear this indecision (my indecision) much longer.

"God, I missed you," he breathes, mouth still on mine as he pushes me against the closed door, his strong hands cradling my face.

"I missed you too."

"The kids?"

"Anthony is still at work. Nessie is out running errands. Want to come in?"

"No," he chuckles, eyes half-lidded, his thumb tracing the outline of my lips. "Want to come back to my hotel room?" His voice is low and husky and leaves no question as to what he wants.

"Yes," I chuckle in return.

OOOOOOOOOO

As soon as we're through the threshold of Edward's twenty-first floor room at the Marriott Marquis, he drops his bag and slams shut the door, pushing me against it and claiming my mouth. All the while, we work to take off our own clothes as well as one another's. He helps me with my skirt, I help him with his shirt. He unclasps my bra as I push down his boxers and sink to my knees.

"Ohfuckinghellyeah." He hisses it as one word through his teeth when I take him deep in one go, fisting my hair. I bob my head along his swollen length, but when I pull back to lick his head, he reaches for my arms and lifts me up.

"Baby, baby." He's breathing hard, chest heaving. "I haven't been inside you in almost three weeks. I'll fucking explode if you keep that up."

We're both chuckling as he picks me up and runs us to the bed. With no fanfare, he throws me on top of the plush mattress, drops on top of me, and sinks inside.

"Ohh!" I cry out, arching my back and closing my eyes against the almost overwhelming pleasure that flows all the way up to my scalp as I stretch around him.

"Open your eyes," he whispers, slowly pushing himself all the way in. "Look at me and _feel_ me filling you, Bella," he hisses.

"Oh God," I mouth breathlessly, holding his gaze as he drives in inch by inch. Our mouths open wordlessly, and when he fills me completely, we both cry out, eyes still on another.

"Yes, Edward," I whimper. "Yes. I see you. _Ohh_ … I feel you."

When I wrap my legs around his hips, he grinds himself into me, and we're lost to everything except the pleasure our bodies bring to one another. His torso is strong and hard, his thrusts deep and powerful. He grunts with every push, sucking on my neck and breasts. When he flips me over and slides his arm around my waist, pulling me up on my knees, I vibrate in anticipation, waiting for him to penetrate me, and when he does...I come undone, pushing back into him to ride each wave of pleasure.

He curses again and grips the bed's frame, thrusting once...twice...three more times before collapsing on top of me, his strong chest against my spine, mouth lazily on the nape of my neck.

OOOOOOOOOO

Afterward, we lie in bed tangled around one another, talking and laughing while the sun begins to descend, and Times Square's lights brighten.

"Of course, I knew who you were. You were Edward Masen; everyone knew who you were."

We're discussing high school, our hands entwined and held above us as we turn them from side to side and watch the sun's rays shine on them, little specks of dust glittering like fairy powder around our fingers.

"You never paid me any mind until the day I asked you out."

"Because I didn't think there'd be any point," I smile. "We ran in totally different crowds. Every time I looked, you were surrounded by girls – very pretty girls, I might add – from your own crowd. I was way too pragmatic to think _you'd_ notice _me_."

"You're fishing for compliments," he grins. "Bella, we ran in different crowds, yes, but I don't remember you ever being a wallflower or the least bit insecure."

"I wasn't a wallflower, no," I shrug in agreement. "And I was perfectly at ease with my crowd and with my position on the high school food chain. But I wasn't as brave as you seem to think I was. I'm not saying I was holding my breath for you, Edward, but I was more than a bit surprised the day you asked me out."

He turns sideways and faces me, his eyes warm and sated, open and honest. "I think…you intimidated me."

" _I_ intimidated you?" I can't help laughing even though I know he's being real. "Edward, you were the most popular boy in school. You'd had girls – very pretty girls – before me. As I recall, you were very confident and cocky about yourself."

His hand ghosts up and down my bare thigh and then down to my ass before coming back up to my breasts.

"Bella, it was high school. I acted that way. Okay, maybe up to a point, I was all those things. And I hadn't had as many girls as you seem to think I had. There were two before you, and they were both from the same immature yet brazen and know-it-all crowd. You were from a totally different crowd."

"The nerds," I smirk.

"Maybe some of your crowd," he concedes. "But not you. _You_ used to walk through those school hallways singing out loud to songs I'd never even heard or with your head buried in a book, and you looked equally amazing doing either. But never once did I see you with a mirror or a lipstick in your hand."

"Gee, thanks a lot." I roll my eyes.

He chuckles and pulls me against him, my breasts brushing against his chest, tingling at the contact. "What I mean is you were a natural. You were in my AP classes, and even though you were a junior, you were smarter than most of the seniors in there, and you weren't afraid to show it. I'd listen in on your conversations, and you were never afraid to say what you thought or to speak with whoever you wanted - jocks and nerds alike. That day in the lunchroom when I stood behind you on line," he grins, "I'd been working up the nerve to do that for weeks. And when I asked you to the movies, I never expected you to say yes."

I push myself up on one elbow and look at him, pushing back the hair on his forehead, which is still damp from our lovemaking. "So why'd you ask?"

"Because I couldn't _not_ ask anymore. And then the rest just happened so fast...maybe too fast for me to believe."

"Like with Nessie and Anthony."

He studies me carefully. "Somewhat like Nessie and Anthony; although, they are a bit older, and as I hope you've realized on your own now, Anthony is a much better man than I was back then. I won't say Nessie's smarter than you were because you were always so damn smart and beautiful, Bella."

"Maybe I was school smart, Edward, but I wasn't relationship-smart." I cup his wonderfully stubbly cheek. Even as we hold this somewhat serious and enlightening conversation, I'm already anticipating feeling that stubble between my thighs. "You weren't a bad man, baby. We were bad communicators. And anyway, as I've said before, I was pretty, but I wasn't beautiful."

He shakes his head. "Still fishing for compliments." He rolls us over so that now he hovers above me, green eyes dark and intense. "Bella…you were…you are…the complete package; not just looks but brains and humor and this sarcastic mouth that just kept my head spinning all the time."

"I still have the sarcastic mouth."

"Yeah, but now we've discovered other great things you can do with it." He laughs when I punch his muscular arm. "You still have the mouth, yes, and the brains and beauty too. Back then, Bella, I didn't know how to keep up with you. You'd say things, and I had no idea whether you were serious or fooling around, and I was too arrogant and cocky to ask. That's not the case anymore."

"You mean you're not putting up with my sarcastic mouth now?" I tease.

"I told you, I've found much better uses for that mouth."

"Edward," I hiss, pretending to try to push him off of me, but he holds me tight.

"I'm kidding. What I mean is, now I know what your sarcastic mouth means. Like with this flight. You get mouthy, and it means you're feeling out of control. I know this now, and I'm older and wiser and here to calm you when you get out of hand."

For a few seconds, I can't even speak. Because with that one statement...I see it clearly. He _knows_ me.

"Edward…I love you so much."

His warm breath washes over me, filling me with both pleasure and peace before he brushes his lips over mine. "I love you, too."

OOOOOOOOOO

The restaurant is a little hole-in-the-wall Burrito Place on Avenue A in the Lower East Side. Nessie has always loved this place. We haven't been here in a while, but as I look at the food in front of me, I remember how good it tastes. But then when I take a bite of my burrito…it doesn't hold a candle to the food truck in L.A.

This place also has the benefit of being very quiet during the week, very private.

The four of us have a pleasant and comfortable dinner. It's almost hard for me to believe how, just a few short summer months ago, I thought the entry and re-entry of the Masen men into our lives would be a disaster. Now…as I watch my daughter's happy smiles and Anthony's loving gaze on her, and as I notice Edward's protective watch over all of us, I can't imagine a life without them.

While these thoughts run through my head, Nessie is discussing tomorrow's flight to L.A.

"…everything's ready. Mom, are you sure you're okay with flying?"

I suppose this is our cue because Edward reaches for my hand and clears his throat.

"Ness, Anthony, do you remember when I was here a few weeks ago, and Bella and I said we had something we wanted to speak with you both about?"

"Yes," Ness says somewhat warily.

Unfortunately, like that coffee date Edward and I had a few months ago when he first re-entered my life, we have both lost our balls.

"Nessie, you know I don't like flying."

"I know, Mom. You never have."

"No, not for a…long, long time."

"Bella, if you'd rather, Nessie and I can still handle the launch in L.A.," Anthony offers.

I shoot him a grateful smile. "No, Anthony, but thank you."

"The origin of Bella's fear of flying…" Edward begins, and in his face, I see that all-too-familiar expression of pain, guilt, and remorse. We've come a long way in the past few weeks, but it will still take him time to accept everything. "She came to see my in school one day-"

"When you and Mom were dating," Ness clarifies.

"Yes. We...argued..." And then he just puts it out there, and…well, there's really no other way. "Ness, Anthony…Bella and I were going to have a baby."

Nessie's sucks in a sharp breath, blue eyes growing wide. Meanwhile, next to her, Anthony reaches for her hand, yet his shoulders are stiff and rigid while his eyes rest warily on his father.

"Anthony, your dad didn't know. That's not what we argued about," I clarify quickly because I can easily see Edward allowing all the blame to fall on his shoulders. "I never told him. Call it fear, cowardice, youth, but between the both of us," I smile sadly, "we made mistakes which ruined our relationship. The hows and whys are between us to figure out; although, every step we took led us to both of you," I reach out and cup both of their cheeks, "and so we regret NONE of it. This isn't about what should've been but what was. Keep that in mind."

"But Mom, what happened…" she swallows, "what happened with the baby?"

I shake my head. "Ness, you know I have a hard time staying pregnant. That has always been the case, and it's why your dad and I never had any more kids. The baby didn't make it, sweetheart. I was on a flight home, and I lost it. And Edward never knew…until a few weeks ago."

Silence surrounds our table for the next few minutes. Edward squeezes my hand reassuringly while we wait for our kids to process what we've told them and to ask us their questions.

"Anthony," Nessie whispers, eyes glassy. Anthony looks at her, at first believing she's speaking to him.

But her eyes are on me. "His name was Anthony."

I nod, trying to keep my bottom lip from quivering. "How-"

"The Anthony Tree: the way you and Nana always took care of that tree. The way you looked at Anthony when you first met him. I can't believe I didn't figure it out sooner."

"The tree was always a memorial to him, and I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you. And I'm sorry, Anthony, for the way I treated you at first."

He holds my gaze for one long moment before his eyes trail to his father and then back to me.

"I'm…sorry," he says, raking a hand through his hair. "I…I didn't know. I-"

"I'm sorry too, Mom. I thought your fear of flying was just some dumb quirk-"

"Vanessa and Anthony, don't you dare apologize for anything here." I turn my gaze between Anthony and my still bewildered daughter. "Don't either of you dare apologize."

"That's right," Edward agrees firmly. "Both of you are the most important things in the world to Bella and me. There's _nothing_ for either of you to apologize, to feel guilty about or even…even to hurt for too long over." He smiles shakily. "I've done…a lot of thinking over the past few weeks, and I've realized that life works in strange and mysterious ways," he muses. "We don't always understand it, and sometimes we need time and age and perspective to fully grasp what's going on. Some relationships, like yours and Nessie's, click from the very start. You know how to communicate and how to be expressive and how to be adults. It's your time. Some…as much love as there may be…just need the right timing. Perhaps...perhaps there are lives and loves and joys that must be experienced separately before that relationship can come together successfully."

A tear rolls down Nessie's cheek. I reach out and take her free hand in mine.

"Ness, your mom loved your father, and you were always meant to be their daughter, and Anthony, you were always meant to be your mom's and my son. And we both love you immeasurably for it and because of it," he says fiercely.

"It doesn't seem fair," Nessie says, "that we…lived and he didn't. Why were we meant to be when he wasn't?"

"Ness…" Edward holds my daughter's gaze, "He was meant to be. That little soul…your mom and I believe he was meant for our hearts, to be the one to watch over the four of us when the time came."

"Like…like an angel," Nessie murmurs. "Daddy used to always tell me there was a cherub watching over me. I had no idea he meant...my brother."

"Your dad knew, yes, and he wanted me to tell you when you were old enough," I say, tears falling as I recall Sam's words.

"And he was right," Edward adds. "He's our cherub."

Throughout the entire exchange, Anthony has been way too quiet.

"Anthony?" Edward says, attempting to draw him into the conversation.

"I just…" he draws in a deep breath. "I took his name, and it's like I took his place. I've lived a life that belonged to someone else first."

"Tony…" Edward's breath leaves him in a rush, his face paling.

I squeeze Edward's hand, silently pleading with him to allow me. He nods, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously.

"Anthony, I did have a difficult time looking at you at first. I know you noticed, and you were extremely gracious and respectful despite how I treated you." My voice breaks. "But you were a living, breathing reminder of that loss, of what _he_ could've been."

"Oh, Christ." He inhales unevenly, as great at shouldering blame as his father is. "I…" He rakes a hand through his hair. "I didn't..."

Releasing Edward's hand, I reach out and take Anthony's instead, squeezing it as tightly as I can. "And you know what? You will _always_ be a reminder of him, but you're also _completely_ you, completely someone separate, someone who's intelligent, kind, compassionate, yet sometimes cocky and arrogant too," I chuckle.

He snorts as he looks down at the table.

"You're a reminder, Anthony, but you're also an honor. Your life has _honored_ him every single day, even without you knowing. And you honor _me_ by bearing the same name. I can't think of a more wonderful...more deserving young man to share his name…than you."

Anthony stands up then and quickly walks to my side of the table. And as soon as I get to my feet, he wraps me in his sweet arms.

"Thank you, Bella," he whispers fervently.

"Thank _you_ , Anthony, for being you."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **See you guys on Wednesday!**

 *****I had a guest reviewer tell me that the water in California is very different than the water in NY. I had no idea, but it's an interesting concept. The reviewer told me that this would probably affect Swan Bellies' taste in L.A., which is probably true. Let's just say Bella looked into it, and has taken the necessary steps to ensure that quality and taste are what they should be. But thank you for that interesting tidbit!*****


	29. Ch 29 - California, Here I Crumb Cakes

**A/N: Thank you all so much for all your wonderful thoughts.**

 **Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes. (Though all remaining mistakes are mine).**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 29 – California, Here I Crumb Cakes**

 **Edward**

For the past few days, I've had this movie playing in my head of how the flight with Bella would proceed. In my self-directed film, I'd cast myself as the hero.

 _Roll film on "THE FLIGHT TO L.A."_

 _AIRPLANE_

 _Bella, Edward, and their kids board the aircraft. The kids then proceed to their seats, and Bella, alongside Edward, head to theirs. Bella displays all appropriate signs of nervousness…but Edward is by her side._

 _Bella and Edward's hands are weaved together between them so that all his love, devotion, and encouragement flows through him and into her. She still looks somewhat skittish; nonetheless, she takes deep breaths while Edward pulls her into his strong, protective side and rests her head on his chest, distracting her with soft brushes of his lips on hers interspersed with engrossing conversation._

 _BELLA (gazing trustingly at Edward):_

 _Hey, this isn't so bad when you're here._

 _EDWARD (holding her tender gaze while tracing her soft lips):_

 _I'll do anything to make you feel better, Bella._

 _SIX HOURS LATER ON AIRPLANE WHICH HAS JUST LANDED_

 _BELLA (looking up at Edward through surprised, doe eyes):_

 _We're here already?_

 _EDWARD (Soft laughter and kiss upon her forehead before giving her a tender smile):_

 _Yes, baby. We're here._

 _BELLA (eyes full of love):_

 _Edward…thank you. I couldn't have done this without you by my side._

 _EDWARD (chest puffed up with pride):_

 _You'll never have to do anything without me ever again._

 _BELLA AND EDWARD'S HEADS LEAN INTO ONE ANOTHER BEFORE THEIR LIPS LOCK IN A GENTLE YET PASSIONATE KISS._

Bam. Twenty-five years of an intense fear of flying - magically cured.

The End.

Roll credits.

OOOOOOOOOO

In reality, Bella trembles almost violently next to me despite the tight grip I have on her hand. When I try to rest her head on my chest, she stubbornly pulls away and huddles against the window instead. Under normal circumstances, I'd be pissed, and then I'd forcefully pry her off the window. But that shaking…it's doing me in.

So instead, I stroke her back and arm, whisper quiet words, and kiss her forehead, all while feeling like the biggest useless asshole on the planet.

At her request, Vanessa and Anthony are a few rows in front of us. She didn't want them to have a clear view of her during the plane ride, and now I see why. While they understand why she's acting this way, if anyone else had a clear view of her right about now, we'd either have the TSB up in our faces or passengers screaming, "flight risk!" - neither one a good thing.

When the flight takes off (yes, this is all pre-takeoff), she throws her head back and squeezes her eyes shut, quietly moaning while breathing deeply through her nostrils. My chest constricts so tightly I can barely breathe myself. Of course, I realize what an arrogant bastard I've been for the past week, thinking my presence would be the cure-all of her in-flight panic attacks. Yes, the baby was ours; yes, I'm the one who should've been by her side when it all went down, but only _she_ experienced that pain, both physical and emotional, a quarter of a century ago.

"Baby, I'm here," I whisper anyway, feeling the full weight of my current impotence even as I continue kissing and stroking her. "I'm here, Bella."

"I know," she whispers back, eyes still shut tight. "I know, Edward."

This - her huddled against the window with me wrapped around her - goes on for what feels like an eternity. When the "Fasten Seatbelts" sign dings and the light is shut off, indicating we may now unfasten our seatbelts, her eyes pop open way too wide.

"Oh God. Oh God, I think I'm going to be sick." She claps a hand over her mouth, eyes filling with tears.

And that's about as much as I can take. She's stubborn as a mule sometimes, pressed up against that window as if she's _still_ all alone on that flight, so I go ahead and do pry her from that window, forcing down her head onto my lap.

"I can't stay like this through the whole flight," she hisses, attempting to sit up.

I push her head back down. "Why not?"

"It looks like I'm giving you a BJ."

"Jesus Christ." I pinch the bridge of my nose because this woman and her mouth, no matter the situation. Still, I can't help chuckling. "Well, it would definitely be a distraction – for both of us."

She snorts. The snort turns into a chuckle, which turns into quiet sobs. All the while, I run my hand through her hair.

"I'm a fucking mess."

"No, you're not," I whisper, leaning close to her ear. "You haven't actually thrown up, have you?"

She's quiet for a few seconds. "No. No, not yet. But I'm still terrified."

God, I want to pull her up and wrap her all around me, assure her that there's nothing to fear. But the wrapping-her-around-me part would probably attract that aforementioned TSB along with a host of fellow, nosey passengers. And I won't discount her fears so callously.

"Bella Swan, yeah, you have this fear, but you and I together…we'll deal with it, whether it means finding a way to minimize it or flying with your head on my lap for the next fifty years."

Again, she's quiet, and honestly, I'm hoping she's knocked out.

"In fifty years, we'll be in our nineties."

"We'll be one of those old-ass couples bitching about today's youth."

"I do that now."

"I know you do."

She chuckles again. Then there's silence…again.

"Edward, if I pull away, don't try to hold me back, okay? I'm trying to keep back the bile, but I'm not sure I can."

I swallow. "All right."

"Hey, at least it'll be free publicity for the Swan Bellies' launch. _Swan Bellies' owner Bella Swan screamed and threw up all over her flight to L.A. this morning. More at eleven._ "

"Yeah, I know they say any publicity is good publicity, but I'm not sure that your puking would be good considering your trying to sell _food_."

Another snort, but now she goes quiet again for the longest stretch yet. She's still shaking, but not quite so violently. Her hair is slightly damp, palms slick and sweaty, but her chest rises and falls much more evenly.

The flight attendants pass back and forth down the aisle, eyes narrowed. A couple of times, they look like they want to say something. Maybe it sort of does look like I'm joining the Mile-High-Club right out in the open.

Anthony is the first one to disobey Bella's edict. As I watch him stand and walk our way, I don't even bother to tell him to return to his seat the way Bella asked me to do before we boarded. He won't listen; I know that much.

He kneels in the aisle, taking her in through worried eyes.

"How is she?" he whispers.

"Okay…but not great."

He frowns, and when he reaches out a hand, I hold my breath. As much as I love my son, as much as I know that Bella no longer holds anything against him, somewhere deep inside I wonder if he's the last person she needs to see right now.

"Hey Bella…" he murmurs.

Slowly, Bella opens her eyes, lifting her head to look at him. She smiles faintly, eyes rimmed in red.

Anthony pretends he doesn't see how different she looks from the strong woman he's come to know…and care for this summer.

"There's this café in Newport Beach, a trendy little seafood place, which makes the best lobster rolls and fish taquitos you can find in all of SoCal. You know what place I'm talking about, right Dad?"

I nod warily, unsure as to where he's going with this right now.

"I was just thinking…it might be a good choice as the next place to carry Swan Bellies."

She stares at him for a few moments, blinking. When she shuts her eyes and returns her head to my lap, I figure that's that.

"Go ahead, and tell me all about it, Anthony."

OOOOOOOOOO

That night, after the flight from semi-hell, Bella and I lie in what I now consider _our_ bed…in _our_ house…making love. Feeling her soft, smooth, and warm body under me is enough to chase away the demons of the day because I know that now, when she cries out, it's from pleasure. Her whimpers beg for more. She fists my hair and pushes my head in deeper between her legs. When I hover over her and sink inside, she arches her back, waiting for me to meet her gaze, eyes so much calmer than a few hours earlier yet full of so much love and trust…I almost can't bear to hold her tender eyes.

But this woman…she knows me too well now. She knows exactly what ghosts will haunt me if she doesn't chase them away.

Her fingers lift my chin, forcing me to hold her gaze. "It _was_ better, I swear to you. And with every ensuing flight, I'll get a little bit better. I know that now."

"I wanted to be-"

"You were," she murmurs, finishing my thought, cradling my face. "You were, Edward. You are. Now love me, Edward. _Show_ me your love."

When she lifts her hips, I can't possibly hold on to the clouds threatening. She's mine, and she's absolved me, and I will spend the rest of my life doing whatever I can to help chase away her own fears.

So when she wraps her legs around my thighs, pulling me in so deep that I'm buried to the hilt, I'm inside her so much more than physically. She's taken me into her soul the way she's always been in mine.

"My…fuck…yeah…" Unfortunately, I can't verbalize that deep thought at the moment. Instead, I slip an arm under her back to pull her closer. "This…I want…I want this forever…"

She chuckles huskily. "I want _this_ forever too – but shh…the kids might hear you."

"They won't hear," I promise, pulling first one of her legs and then the other over my shoulder. She whimpers and throws back her head, pressing her lips together to keep the screams that have filled my dreams at bay. And here I thought I wouldn't want to hear her scream today.

I take her mouth and swallow her heavy breaths.

"Show _me_ how much you love me and want me."

When I bite her lip, she comes undone, and I keep my mouth on hers the entire time, breathing in her stifled whimpers and the moans she simply can't contain. And when her muscles finish contracting around me, I explode and fill her with all my love.

OOOOOOOOOO

I'm the first one to wake up.

It's two in the morning - five a.m. Bella's time. Nevertheless, she's still fast asleep, her naked body spooned into me after our late-night lovemaking. I'll give her a few more minutes of rest because she's got one long-ass day ahead of her. The small kitchen staff she's hired will be waiting in a rented commercial kitchen in L.A. at four. As much as she loves my kitchen, she says it's just not equipped for the job – something I plan to remedy as soon as possible.

After a couple of hours of baking, she's making an appearance on _Today in L.A_. at six-fifty-five a.m., exactly five minutes before Swan Bellies' official seven a.m. coordinated launch in three of the trendiest cafés around L.A.

Down the hall, the kids sleep in separate rooms - Anthony in his old bedroom and Nessie in the guest room; although, I wouldn't bet the farm that one or the other didn't do some sneaking around last night. I've taught Anthony to respect this house – no random girls coming in and out his bedroom – but Nessie is about as random to him as Bella is to me.

I'm also pretty sure that some part of Bella probably realizes this, but I won't point it out.

Either way, as I lie there for a few minutes simply…savoring the feel of having Bella asleep in my arms, I'm also elated by the fact that they're here - my son and the girl who I have no doubt will someday be my daughter-in-law.

This house…this house is a _home_.

OOOOOOOOOO

Half an hour later, we're all up and moving about despite the fact that the sun has yet to rise. And the quiet serenity of a few minutes earlier is now a distant memory.

Bella…is a maniac.

She runs around the house getting ready while also making pancakes for the kids and straightening my tie for about the hundredth time in the past fifteen minutes.

"Anthony, Vanessa, we're going to be late!" she howls up the staircase.

"Babe, there's no traffic on the freeway at this time. You won't be late."

"Really, Edward?" She stops in the middle of her tracks, hands on hips, and makes a point of huffing my way before walking back to the stove to flip the pancakes. "I'm not even going to tell you all the things that are wrong with that assumption because you really should know by now. I can't let them get started without me. And why I agreed to that stupid interview later this morning, right before the launch, is beyond me. In New York, I _never_ had to do interviews."

I swear, when this woman is nervous, her mouth is a lethal weapon.

I walk up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist, resting my jaw on her shoulder so that I can brush my lips against her neck and whisper in her ear.

"I do know you. You know I do. Now stop being an argumentative pain in the ass, and set down the spatula." I turn her around in my arms, stroking her cheek with the back of my fingers. "You won't be late, and you agreed to the interview because L.A. is a different market from New York, and you've got to treat it differently. _You_ know that. Relax, Bella," I grin. "Everything's going to go great."

She sighs, and now that I've gotten her to stay still, I see the anxiety rimming her eyes.

"What if I fail here, Edward? What if I do fall on my ass?"

"Then I'll pick up that beautiful, perfect ass, rub it to make it feel better, and we'll try again."

Chuckling, she slides her arms around my neck and takes a deep breath. "I love you."

"I know you do," I chuckle in return.

OOOOOOOOOO

 **Bella**

I'm a bitch sometimes. I know this.

This morning's L.A.-debut creations have been prepared, and LAC is currently distributing them to the three, carefully selected cafés around the city. In turn, they've been instructed not to sell them until exactly seven a.m.

The entire ride to Universal Studios in Hollywood, while on the stupid tram and all through the stupid interview, I feel like shit; although, I disguise it with grins and wittiness in all the right places. Edward has always thought me so brave, but I think in the past two days…he's seen the real me.

That might not be a good thing.

Now, he, Ness, and Anthony sit out in that audience and beam up at me with eyes full of pride - all after I was such a bitch to them this morning.

Daniella the Anchorwoman displays to both TV cameras and audience the batch of _California, Here I Crumb Cakes_ drizzled with honey-lemon glaze. Everyone _oohs_ and _aahs_ in all the right places. When Daniella takes a bite and moans as if she's having an orgasm on live, morning TV, everyone claps on cue. Then we all count down from ten to exactly seven a.m. California time .

Swan Bellies' are now officially available on the west coast.

OOOOOOOOOO

We've only just gotten into the car for the drive back to Newport Beach when Anthony's phone beeps with a notification.

"What the…?" When I turn around to look at him, he meets my eyes, grinning smugly. "Malibu is sold out. It took twenty minutes."

"What? Are you sure?"

Before he can respond, my phone beeps, and I read the message from the distributors assigned to track sales.

"Hollywood is sold out too!"

Anthony's phone beeps yet again.

"And Santa Monica - they're all gone, Bella! Holy hell, in less than a half hour!"

In the back seat, Ness and Anthony hug and laugh. I face forward again, tears stinging my eyes.

Edward reaches for my hand, grinning at the windshield. "I told you it would be great."

"Edward, I'm sorry I lost control of my mouth before."

"Shh. I love that crazy mouth." He shoots me a quick, sidelong glance, smirking. "For _all_ the things it does."

When I punch his arm, he laughs. "Now let's get home. I've got a surprise for you."

OOOOOOOOOO

As we pull into the driveway, I'm on a series of back-to-back calls with the cafés, the kitchen, and LAC. Almost an hour and a half later, the launch is officially a complete success. In my distracted state, I fail to notice the red convertible parked in the street in front of the house.

Anthony and Ness enter the house through the front door, but Edward takes my hand and leads me in through the back. Busy with the distributor, I think nothing of it.

"All right, Stephen, thanks. No, you got them there on time, and I'm sure those tweaks you mentioned will perfect everything. Thanks again for all your hard work."

As I hang up the cell, my forehead creases in a curious frown. There are voices coming from the back…around the pool area, and they don't belong to Ness or Anthony.

"You call me _little lady_ one more motherfucking time, and I'm going to stick this Louboutin right up your ass. I don't give a fuck if you did come get me from LAX."

Sucking in a sharp breath, I freeze in place because I'd recognize that voice in my sleep.

"It's a term of endearment, darlin'," another somewhat familiar voice says, chuckling. "Boy, are all you New York girls such tough cookies?"

" _Girls? Tough Cookies?_ Why you motherless son of a-"

"Alice?" I shriek, taking off in a sprint. Behind me, I hear Edward laughing. "Ally!"

When I reach the patio, Alice is standing face to face with Edward's somewhat chauvinistic piggish friend, Jasper.

Now, if anyone ever looked like she belonged in California, it's Alice Laurent.

Her long, blond hair blows in the gentle breeze. Combined with the murderous expression on her face, the red, fitted two-piece skirt suit, and the black Louboutins, she looks like an avenging California lawyer.

When she turns her glare away from Jasper just long enough to see me, her entire demeanor shifts.

A huge grin breaks out across her face. "Bella!"

As she makes herself toward me in her heels, I shoot a quick look at the man who knew what – or rather, who – was waiting here for me.

Edward grins softly. "Surprise, baby."

"Bella!" Alice rushes me then, wrapping her long arms around my neck. "Congratulations, baby! I heard about the successful launch!"

After a few seconds, I'm over my shock enough to pull away and meet her gaze; although, my heart is close to bursting. Almost everyone I've ever loved is here right now. And my little angel…well, he's always with me and his dad now.

"Alice, what in the world are you doing here?"

"Did you really think I'd stay on the opposite coast today? You're my best friend. Of course, I had to be here."

Swallowing, I pull her back into my arms, and as happy as I am, at the same time, I have no idea how I'm going to part with her when she leaves.

"I can't believe you actually took off time to come to California!"

She chuckles, her blue eyes sparkling as she waves away my bewilderment. " _That_ was nothing. What should shock you is that I haven't killed that guy over there yet." She jerks a thumb behind her and in Jasper's general direction – who is standing by the pool, laughing. "And it was a long, damn ride from the airport."

I lean past Alice to look at Jasper, quirking a brow. " _You_ picked up my best friend?"

"Call it yet another favor for the beauties from New York," he shrugs, grinning impishly. "I'm growing used to them by now."

"Jasper." Edward's tone is a warning, but I hear the amusement in it as well.

Still, as I make my way over toward Jasper, I take him in through narrowed eyes, crossing my arms over my chest when I stand in front of him. The smirk on his face more than tempts me to push him right into the pool.

"Thank you… _Jasper_."

"You're very welcome… _Bella_."

"Now why does she get called by her name, and I get called _Little Lady_?" Alice asks, hand on hip. "Do I look like a goddamn little lady to you?"

Jasper's eyes shamelessly rake up and down Alice's body, and at that moment, I do feel sorry for him. My girl Alice doesn't even like her door being held open by a man.

"You, little lady, are _all_ woman."

That aforementioned Louboutin will be flying.

Alice's nostrils flare, and I hold my breath. But then…no shoes fly.

"Stay away from me. That's all I'm saying. Hi, Edward. Thanks for letting me stay here for a couple of days."

"No problem, Alice," Edward snickers.

"Now I'm going to go find my niece and that handsome boyfriend of hers. Nessie, Anthony!"

"I'll come help you find them!" Jasper offers.

Edward and I are left alone. He walks close to me, grinning while the warm California sun shines its rays over his copper highlights. It kindles my skin, bounces off of the pool water and makes it sparkle like it holds a treasure of blue diamonds. Inside of the beautiful…comfortable house, my daughter and…my sweet Anthony squeal and laugh when they see Alice. Jasper's booming voice can be heard followed by more yelling from Alice.

Edward slides a hand around the nape of my neck and pulls me close.

"Marry me, Bella. Marry me, and we'll live anywhere you want. This house is waiting for you, but if you can't make the move, Jasper will buy me out, and we'll get a place in New York…or Alaska…or hell, even the Sahara. Just marry me and finally…" he grins, " _finally_ be mine."

With a chuckle, I push myself up on my toes and brush my lips back and forth over his.

"The house is waiting, huh?" I grin, pulling away enough to hold his gaze. "It is one kick-ass house. And that kitchen, with a couple of additions here and there, you can't get much better than that kitchen. And that pool-"

He bites my lip - _hard_.

"Ouch!" I laugh.

"Answer me," he hisses right before I wrap my arms around his neck, and he lifts me up.

"Of course, I'll marry you. I'll marry you, and we'll start a new batch here…even if I haven't seen the beaches yet."

He frowns, but he's grinning too, so much joy in his handsome face I want to cry, but I've got to get this out because I finally see it. I see it all so clearly.

"Edward, I see the flaw in my philosophy! You _can't_ always start over, but sometimes…sometimes starting over isn't what you need to do. Sometimes you need to set aside that batch…and begin a new one."

"I told you this already," he smirks.

And he did. In the beginning of this crazy, confusing, sometimes sad yet always perfect summer…he did tell me that very thing.

"I'm ready to begin a new batch with you, Edward Masen, right here in this beautiful damn house, in that great-ass kitchen, and in that delicious pool."

He grins from ear to ear. "I think you fell in love with the house as much as you did me."

"Not quite as much," I smile impishly, "but almost."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **One more chapter…**

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**


	30. Ch 30 Farewell New York Style Cheesecake

**A/N: Thank you all so much for the wonderful thoughts you've given me throughout this story.**

 **Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 30 – Farewell, New York Style Cheesecake Bars**

 **Bella**

 **Eighteen Months Later:**

I wander aimlessly through the hallways of the townhouse where Sam, Nessie, and I spent fifteen years together - where _I've_ lived for eighteen years of my life. A thousand and one memories replay like a movie reel in my head:

" _Mommy! Mommy! I climb the steps all by myself!"_

" _Daddy, can you paint my room bright pink?"_

" _Guys, do you think we can get a pool in our backyard? My friend Sophie has one, and it's so cool!"_

" _Vanessa, clean up your room!"_

" _Happy tenth anniversary, Bella. I love you, sweetheart. Wait 'til you see where I'm taking you tonight."_

" _Happy fortieth birthday, Sam. I love you and wish you so many more…"_

My finger lightly ghosts an invisible path along the now bare walls in the family room, which is now…just an empty room. All the family pictures have been taken down, carefully wrapped and loaded into a cardboard box, which will soon make a trek across the country and to the opposite coast. Some will eventually debut in my new home. Some will remain in the box until Nessie decides their future.

With a wistful sigh, I look up and happen to catch a glimpse of a sight, which throughout the years, has become commonplace in its familiarity. The winter sun is rising over a cold, New York City morning, bursting through the large back yard windows in deceivingly warm shades of yellow, pink, and orange. This is probably the last time I'll watch the sun rise from this spot. An endless summer sun now awaits me – one of many beauties awaiting me, but it doesn't mean I won't miss this one.

Once outside, I stand on the curb and look up at the townhouse's red, brick façade, slightly weathered by age yet well-maintained throughout the years – every generation has made sure of it. Sam's great-grandparents built this house around the turn of the century when they arrived from France. It's a Laurent family home which has always been inherited by the eldest child. One day, Vanessa and the family she creates will have to decide its fate as well. But for now, the house will be closed, and a maintenance agency will handle the continuous upkeep.

All around me, the city's unceasing life continues, refusing to pause or wane for my departure. The cold, February wind seeps through my bones, and I wrap my coat tighter around me to keep it at bay.

The sudden warmth and sense of…rightness which cocoons me is the first indication of his proximity, even before his warm breath washes over me. His hands slide around my waist, and he pulls me up against his chest, resting his angular jaw on my shoulder. My hands find his and lace our gloved fingers together.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," I smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Everything you wanted to take is loaded and secured in the truck. Do you want to make sure it's all-"

"No. No, I trust you."

When he brushes his lips across my temple, they feel warm and soft despite the chill in the air.

"All right then. I'll go tell the drivers they can be on their way. Take your time, Bella. We don't have to go anywhere until you're ready."

Before he can release me, I turn around in his arms.

Edward's green eyes hold mine steadily. They're the same and yet so different from the eyes of the boy with whom I once fell in love: older, yes, and creased with laugh lines which add to his rugged, good looks and which assure me he's led a good life up to this point, as I have. They're also full of a confidence that comes with time, with maturity, and with the experiences of a life's many ups and downs.

He's my present, yet he's respectful of my past, which is one of the many things I love about him.

I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck, sliding my hands through the hair at his nape. "I'm ready _now_ , Edward. I'm ready for _our_ future."

With a wide grin, he drops his head and presses his mouth to mine.

OOOOOOOOO

The move to my new home in Newport Beach, California has taken longer than either Edward or I would've liked. Unfortunately, there were many loose ends to tie up, not the least of which was Swan Bellies, New York. To the collective disappointment of many New Yorkers, Swan Bellies New York is no longer. The last creations in this city - _Farewell, New York Style Cheesecake Bars_ , have been baked and eaten.

At heart, I am and always will be a woman who needs some semblance of control. Therefore, I simply couldn't resign myself to allowing someone outside of my family, regardless of how qualified he or she may be, to run Swan Bellies, New York. Once I agreed to marry Edward and move to California with him, Swan Bellies, New York's days were numbered.

We had a good run, though - over three years of almost daily surprises for a city which usually doesn't appreciate surprises. Over the past eighteen months, however, while Swan Bellies, California continued its success and expansion – into San Francisco, San Diego, San Jose, etc., – New York City's creations wound down. When two women took up a savory appetizers boutique business with a marketing strategy almost an exact replica to Swan Bellies daily surprise creations, Anthony was furious. But I reminded him that everyone gets his or her chance to shine, and Swan Bellies, New York was ready to pass the baton.

Besides, we're still kicking ass in California.

Still, it's a trend, and all trends come and go; only those things with true substance remain despite time and changing markets…

So over the past eighteen months, I've flown back and forth six times (six times!) to manage the business on both coasts…and to see Edward and the kids. Each flight continues to be difficult for me, each time is also slightly better than the last. Edward, Nessie…or Anthony are with me on every flight, and in between, they come up to New York as much as they can.

You see, young Anthony Robert Masen is now twenty-four, a college graduate, and my business partner. The little Spawn even had the nerve to officially ask my now twenty-one-year-old daughter to marry him – gave her a flashy ring and everything. (Fine, fine - it's more pretty and tasteful than flashy).

It's almost as pretty as the ring I wear from his father.

For the past seven months, Anthony and I have been working together on a new idea - a brainchild we've developed from a subject which has become near and dear to both our hearts: healthy babies.

Hence, _BeMaTuf Baby -_ A healthy nutrition line for the expecting mom _._

Oh, we're aware it's a mouthful, but we've done all the market research, and we have media and advertising in place which makes our name and objective extremely clear. There is never a guarantee, of course, but our nutrition line for expecting moms uses only ingredients grown hydroponically through the use of aquaponics. It can't hurt to eat as well as you can.

What's more, focus groups have shown that moms actually _love_ the name.

Be My Tough Baby! What's there not to love?

Here, I'll admit that Anthony and I did have some back and forth sessions on that name.

"BeMaTuf Baby? Come on, Mom," he chuckled when we first brainstormed. "You just want the 'Be' first because they're the first two letters of your name."

"And you want the 'Ma' first because they're the first two letters of _your_ surname!"

"It'll be your surname soon, too."

Did I forget to mention that Anthony calls me _Mom_ now? It started the day he proposed to Nessie. Edward jokes that he proposed as much to give her the ring as he did to have an excuse to call me "Mom."

I tell him he's crazy. Seriously. As if.

Anyway, back to the Baby Mama Food Name Game:

"Anthony," said I, "if we put the 'Ma' first, it would be MaBeTuf Baby. What the hell is MaBeTuf Baby? Does it mean that _maybe_ your baby will be tough if you eat healthy food? I mean, yes, we're making it clear that it's not a guarantee but an extra way to care for your child in-utero, but who's going to want to buy a food line which just might… _maybe_ …make your baby strong and tough?"

The boy gave me a grin and a smirk exactly like that of his sire's. Darn Spawn.

"All right, Mom. All right. You win."

And so BeMaTuf Baby won.

And if it fails and we fall on our asses, Edward will be there to rub mine all better…and we'll _both_ be there to encourage Anthony to try again.

Besides, with the baby coming soon, I'm just as eager and anxious as Anthony is to get the line out in the market. Edward also jokes about my having baby on the brain.

Oh, wait a minute; I'm not pregnant.

Neither is Nessie!

Good Lord, she still has a year and a half of college to go, and I will kill that little Spawn if he knocks her up now! (Although, I fully trust that he'd love and care for her and the baby with his life, so I really wouldn't kill him. Actually, I'd probably jump for joy, but he doesn't need to know that).

It's Alice Laurent Whitlock who is due to give birth to a baby girl next month: Samantha Whitlock.

Wonderfully healthy at age forty-four, Alice is having her first baby and Jasper's fourth. And, as opposite as they are…they're both over the moon.

The other day during one of my visits, she and I were at a little seafood café on Balboa Island, where she's lived for the past six months since she married Jasper. We were eating fish tacos – which she now craves constantly – when I realized how unbelievably…gorgeous she looks nowadays. Even more so than when she lived in New York - and Alice Laurent has always been gorgeous. Men of all ages would literally throw themselves at her, yet she never paid any of them any mind – until Jasper.

"You're glowing," I said, setting down my taco and watching her shove hers into her mouth like fish tacos are going out of style. She's got one of those perfectly round baby bumps, the ones that look like you've swallowed a beach ball, yet the rest of your body remains perfectly perfect. So not the kind of belly I carried.

She chuckled, gingerly licking her fingers. "Who would've ever thought they'd find me here, right? Living on a little island in California and taking off a couple of years from work to have a _baby_? I must be nuts." She shook her head.

I suppose this is one of the many reasons why she and I are the best of friends. We both pretend to be braver than we are, yet we can both see right through our mutual bullshit.

And we've both been lucky enough to find men who can see through it as well, men who we need not necessarily to take care of us, but to ground us. And with his _little ladys_ and _tough cookies_ all over the place, Jasper sure reminds Alice that it's okay to need someone else once in a while.

"I just can't believe you beat me with both the marriage and the move to California!"

She grinned, but I know my girl, and there was something wary and hesitant in her smile.

"Bella…" – she rubbed her belly subconsciously – "the pregnancy…the baby…I don't want it to…hurt you. I don't want you to feel-"

I cut her off quickly, placing my hand over hers on top of that baby bump. "Listen to me. All I feel right now is a heart close to bursting from seeing you like this. I have you, I have Edward, and I have…I have…"

At that moment, in my mind, I saw…three children: one tiny infant whose features will always be those of an angel…and two grown children who both resemble their fathers.

"I have my children," I grinned. "And little Sammy here will be Edward's and my godchild. I feel nothing but joy for you…and Jasper." I rolled my eyes, making her laugh.

And at that moment, little Sammy kicked her mother's belly hard, reminding us both of the beauty of upcoming life.

Nevertheless, as happy as Ness and Anthony are about Alice and Jasper's baby, Anthony's interest in baby food isn't so much due to the upcoming Whitlock bundle, but rather due to the fact that he and Ness will be married in less than two years, and both are anxious to start a family right away. In addition to the new venture which Anthony and I now share, Nessie is set to completely take over Swan Bellies, California once she graduates. Thankfully, as her own boss, she can do so with babies all around her.

And they've already named their firstborn girl or boy:

Toni…or Tony.

And this is why, though I may warn them and bitch and moan, I'm almost as anxious for that future baby as they are.

No, none of these babies will ever take the place of Edward's and my Anthony. _He_ will always be an angel watching over all of us. But Alice has a future she never imagined for herself, and whatever child Ness and Anthony ever have will be part Masen, Swan, _and_ Laurent.

What more could I ever ask for?

Our lives are wonderfully hectic, busy…and full.

OOOOOOOOOO

The following morning when the sun's rays stream through the windows, I awaken in a hotel room at the Marriott Marquis warm, naked, and wrapped in Edward's arms. The furniture, bits, and pieces which will make the move to California with me are already on their way via truck, but Edward's and my flight is later this morning. He always tries to convince me to drive instead, and a couple of times, we've done just that so we could stop in Phoenix to see my parents and Anthony's Tree on our way. But today, I'm eager to get back to Newport Beach, eager to begin my new life in my new house, in my newly-expanded kitchen, in my sex(y) pool…eager to tend to the young palm tree the four of us planted together a few months back.

For a few minutes, I rest comfortably and quietly with my head on Edward's chest. When I look up and see him snoring, lips slightly parted, I smile to myself. Edward will be forty-six in a few months, yet I find him sexier and more handsome than I ever did when he was a teenager. He tells me the same thing. Sometimes, I still find it hard to believe that we're here - twenty-seven years after that fateful day. In exactly one week, Edward and I will stand on top of warm sand with the Pacific lapping at our feet and surrounded by friends and family and declare to the world that our love brought us together again.

With this thought kindling me, I slide up his chest and brush my lips over his slightly parted ones, slipping my tongue inside his warm mouth. He groans and quickly responds, his hands gripping my hips as he pulls me completely on top of him and his morning erection.

"Good morning, baby," he grins lazily, mouth still on mine, eyes still closed.

"Good morning. Are you ready for our flight?"

He chuckles and groans again, opening those beautiful, green eyes which always take my breath away.

"You mean am I ready to set your head down into BJ position? Sure."

When I smack his arm, he laughs.

"Today, I won't need to get into BJ position. I can feel it in my bones. Now, come on. Get up, lazy." I bite his chest, fully aware of the fact that his morning wood is growing under me and aware that we won't be going anywhere quite so soon. But it's fun to tease him.

Sure enough, when I try to extricate myself from his arms, his hold simply tightens, and he pushes me down fully over the protrusion between us.

"Hold on there, baby. What's the rush? Aren't you exhausted from all that packing yesterday?"

"I'm exhausted from the past twenty-something months."

"Really?" He arches a brow, gently moving his fingers through my tangled hair like he's my own, personal brush. "What's been so exhausting about the past twenty-something months?"

I rest my palms on his chest as I grin impishly at him. "Well, first my ex-boyfriend's Spawn seduced my daughter."

He chuckles heartily at this; although, he's promised he will _never_ tell Anthony that I ever called him that name.

"Then my ex himself walked back into _my_ life."

"Get the hell out of here?" He's always ready to go along with me - except when I get unbearable, and he brings me right back down to Earth.

"Yup. And get this; now he's lying naked in bed underneath me."

I gasp and giggle when Edward quickly flips us over so that now I'm the one on the mattress while he hovers over me. His darkened gaze holds mine unwaveringly for a few seconds. Then he drops his mouth to my neck, pressing soft kisses along my collarbone before he begins to trail further down.

"What else is he doing?" His tongue darts over my nipples, bestowing equal attention to each before he licks a path to the space between my breasts, then a moist line down to my stomach - which he always kisses with reverence.

As I fist his hair, my heart beats wildly. "He's worshipping my body with his warm tongue."

"Mmm," he hums low in his throat, mouth moving lower. "He does love doing that. Where is his tongue headed now?"

He parts my legs then, and I instinctively and pretty eagerly bend them at the knees, squirming as I anticipate that first touch.

"Now?" I say shakily. "Now, it's headed to the promised land."

He chuckles huskily, his warm breath right there, making me tingle. "The promised land indeed," he says right before giving me one long…slow…lick.

" _Ohh Gohhhd_ …" My back arches before falling and melting into the supple mattress we've warmed with our bodies. When my legs give out and threaten to fold, he pushes them open without pausing in his attentions. And when his finger joins in on the fun, I fist his hair with both hands and find I'm no longer able to narrate.

OOOOOOOOOO

 **Edward**

Finally, she's coming home to stay - Bella…my future wife, the only woman I have ever and will ever love.

A long time ago, we became one another's first foray into love. Unfortunately, young and inexperienced, neither one of us really knew what we were doing. Somewhere along the way, our roads diverged, and our lives took separate paths. I won't call them wrong turns – neither of us will because along these separate paths, we both experienced a full life. Yet somewhere in the bend…those two separate paths converged once more.

Now she sits next to me on the airplane while we wait for take-off. Her hand wraps around mine in a death grip, but we're also carrying on a whispered conversation which even a few months ago, I would've never thought possible - especially not in the current setting. Strangely enough, it's somewhat fitting…and it seems to soothe her.

"No, I think he would've had your hair," I disagree.

"Fine, fine, maybe," she concedes, "but, definitely your eyes - and he would've been tall like you."

"Yeah." I easily agree with that one, "tall like me, but with your self-control."

" _Yes_ , because you have zero self-control - but with your patience." She smiles. "I can't wait to plant the seeds we're bringing back with us around his tree."

"Me neither."

"And I can't wait to see Alice and the kids…and even Jasper," she smirks.

That makes me laugh. Although they're always arguing, my buddy Jasper and my future wife have found at least two objects which they can agree are deserving of their eternal love and devotion: Alice…and the coming baby.

Who would've thought those two would've fallen so madly in love?

Our lives have merged in so many ways, yet at the center of it all was and still is a little boy, who despite never having actually been born, has been the catalyst. All of us – Bella, Nessie, Anthony, and even Jasper and Alice – have been brought together by him.

When the plane takes off, Bella's conversation ceases. No matter how much she talks up her courage, no matter how damn brave this woman truly _is_ , flying will never be easy for her. But from here on in, I will _always_ be next to her. What's more, for the last couple of flights, she's been able to take a tranquilizer. In the past, she says they used to make her feel worse, but lately, they seem to help.

Now, as she leans against me, and I guide her head to my shoulder instead of my lap, her words begin to slur.

"I'd like to go to the PV when we get home."

My heart swells at the way she already calls California home…but I correct her anyway.

"It's PV, not _The_ PV."

She chuckles groggily. "Whatever."

For the next few minutes, she's quiet. The plane levels off, and when we reach cruising altitude and the "Fasten Seatbelts" light is extinguished – the moment when it all happened on that flight all those years ago – I feel her swallowing thickly.

Kissing her temple, I stroke her arm in comfort. "I love you, Bella."

"The scones…" she mumbles after a couple of heartbeats.

"Well, that's not how I expected you to respond," I frown. "Come again?"

"The scones…they were fortune tellers."

"Like the Chinese cookies?"

"No…" Her voice is a breath of a whisper as if she's dreaming, "not the cookies. You and Alice with those cookies, I swear."

I can't help chuckling. "Bella, what are you talking about?"

"I'm going to bake you a batch when we get home."

"Of cookies?"

"No. Scones. They're magical."

"What exactly was in that tranquilizer?" I wonder quietly.

"The scones warned me about you…about you and Anthony that day. I thought he was the Spawn, but he's…he's mine…my boy."

My throat constricts, but I swear to God, my chest feels as if it might explode from overcapacity.

"So tell me what's so magical about these scones," I grin, brushing my lips back and forth over her head.

"They taught me my true philosophy: Life gets real, and no, you can't always start over…"

When she pauses, I think she's fallen asleep.

"But, Edward…you can _always_ begin again."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Thank you all so much for taking another ride with me. I've enjoyed it, and I truly hope you guys have as well.**

 **In less than two weeks, I'll be off on my family vacay, cruising through Europe (so excited!).**

 **When I return, and the kids are settled back in school, and I'm caught up with everything, I'll sit down and start planning a new adventure…:)**

 **Take care, loves, and enjoy the rest of your summer!**

 **Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**


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